


while you were holed away in your head

by painintheassnojutsu



Series: kakashi, big and small [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, EXTREMELY self-indulgent, Gen, Good Orochimaru, Hatake Kakashi is a Troll, Hatake Sakumo Lives, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kid Hatake Kakashi, Mood Swings, Nonbinary Orochimaru, Panic Attacks, Sharing a Brain, Snakes, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-05-08 00:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14682546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painintheassnojutsu/pseuds/painintheassnojutsu
Summary: It happens on the day that his father is supposed to leave for a mission. It’s an important one, because Sakumo has been distant lately, and he is only distant when he is about to go on a dangerous, and by extension important, mission.And now, Kakashi is stuck with an old geezer in his head who claims to be him—but that's not possible, becauseKakashiisKakashi,and there cannot be two of him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first chapter of _while you were holed away in your head_! Please note that this is part of a series, and that you should read the first work— _sleepy solutions_ —before this, for optional but recommended context. The schedule may change over time, but expect updates once every two weeks on Wednesdays for now.
> 
> This is more of an INTRO fic to the series, and it won't have a LOT in the way of plot; after all, Kakashi is just eight years old, and there are a lot of people he has to meet. The fifth fic, POSSIBLY THE FOURTH, in the series will be much more plot-heavy.
> 
> Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Panic attack(s) and mention(s) of death—please proceed with caution if either of these triggers you or makes you uncomfortable!

It happens on the day that his father is supposed to leave for a mission. It’s an important one, because Sakumo has been distant lately, and he is _only_ distant when he is about to go on a dangerous, and by extension important, mission.

Sakumo is rummaging through his packs and pouches and sealing scrolls, occasionally asking Kakashi to check something for him. 

(That’s another tell. Sakumo never packs this heavy for short, easy missions.) 

Kakashi is currently taking inventory of two med packs. The monotony of it would be almost comforting, Kakashi thinks. If only it wasn’t so mildly alarming. Gauze, chakra pills, blood replenishing pills, disinfectant—that, and much more. Sakumo is going through a food storage seal, and Kakashi can sense small, brief bursts of chakra as his father stores ration bars and non-perishables into the small scroll. The two of them work quickly and efficiently, just as they’ve always done.

Kakashi finishes first because he’s got less to do, so he sits back to watch his father work. Sakumo’s hair is up in a severe bun today instead of its usual loose ponytail. His father looks tired—not anything unusual, but today it looks _wrong_ on him somehow, and Kakashi thinks that Sakumo should be lively and hale, not—whatever _this_ is. Not whatever the deep lines on his face are, not whatever the bags under his eyes are, not whatever _anything_ is.

Kakashi decides it doesn’t matter, that he must be overthinking things, and so he ignores the persistent, plucking kind of feeling in his chest that tells him that it really, really matters.

When he turns his attention back to his father, he’s surprised to see that Sakumo is almost done—everything is packed up and placed in neat little piles, except for the very last of the newly honed weapons. Sakumo gathers up the sharp kunai laid out on the floor before him and deposits them into one of his thigh pouches, and then he straps it onto his leg.

It’s raining outside, Kakashi notices absently. The _drip-drip-patter_ is not distracting, but it does dull his senses a bit. No matter—he is safe here, with his father. Speaking of whom—

Sakumo nods to himself, seemingly satisfied with his efforts, collects his belongings, and ties his hitai-ate on. And just as Kakashi's father turns toward the door, and walks over to it, and opens it, it happens, very suddenly and _very_ unexpectedly.

(Something stirs in Kakashi’s mind—the beginnings of an idea, the edges of a concept, the fingertips of a human being—and grief hits him like a wall. But it’s strange, foreign, _wrong,_ because it’s not his grief. It _isn’t Kakashi’s grief,_ but it comes from inside of him, and that is enough to have every single part of him on alert, and in his head the word _enemy_ blares on repeat.)

His mouth wrenches itself open, and he speaks.

“Hey. Uh—I know you might be gone for a while. This mission is important, even though you haven’t told me outright. I know it is, so don’t try to reassure me, because we both know that nothing you can say right now will improve your chances of success. Just, well . . . be safe. Do whatever you need to. And—” Kakashi cuts himself off, looking up—he is vaguely panicked because _this is not him talking, who is talking instead of him, who is in his **head**_ —and he tries for a smile but fails miserably so he just keeps talking instead. “No matter what happens—I’ll be proud of you. Dad.”

The last bit is tacked on hastily, almost an afterthought—but Sakumo notices, and he gives Kakashi a big smile. If his father is surprised, he shows no sign of it, although he _must_ be at least a little startled, and in fact Kakashi is _sure_ he is because there is no way in hell that the _real_ him would say anything as mushy and emotional as _that_ —

“Thanks,” his father says, and then, “You know how it goes.”

“The way it does," Kakashi says, and it's like clockwork because that's their goodbye-without-saying goodbye. That's their reassurance that things will happen the way they happen, that even if a mission goes sideways—it's because things happen, and they will never  _stop_ happening, and life—life goes on.

Sakumo nods, once, and the door closes quietly behind him.

A moment passes—and then Kakashi finally, _finally,_ feels like he regains control of his own body, but then he loses it again, and he _can't_ because he _can’t breathe_ and _oh gods, he's going to die at the hands of some mysterious force that had made him say goodbye to his father—_

He takes notice, absently, of falling to the floor, but no special attention is paid to it because his mind is too focused on the sudden _exhaustion_ and _terror_ and he feels like a scared horse, blind with panic and sides heaving for breaths he cannot seem take, breaths that cannot _satisfy_ the burning need for oxygen.

Kakashi thinks he'll choke if he doesn't stop hyperventilating but he—oh gods, he's not sure he even _remembers_ how to breathe. He—he isn't even sure whether he's still _conscious_ , because maybe he's just dreaming.

He's dreaming, right?

 _Right?_  

But even as the thought crosses his mind, he immediately writes it off, because he can't be dreaming, because the thought that he is dreaming is so  _silly_ that—well. It doesn't matter, Kakashi tells himself.

Panic places its hands on either side of his face. He feels smothered.

He hears talking, he thinks, except the voice is muffled, like someone is talking through a pillow. Kakashi strains to hear whoever is addressing him, but then again he’s not even sure that they want to talk to _him._ He belatedly realizes that his ears are ringing.

He can feel his heartbeat everywhere, surrounding and drowning him, and it makes him want to stop—stop feeling, because it’s kind of warm here and Kakashi _hates_ that—stop hearing, because it’s too much for him—and he’s already stopped seeing because his eyes have been screwed shut for god knows how long. The low thudding continues, relentless in its assault of his senses. _Is it normal to hear my own heartbeat this well?_

Kakashi tries and finally— _finally,_ he thinks, and wants to sob with relief—manages to force his breathing to calm, and then his hearing comes back with sudden clarity, and the room—is he in a room?—isn’t so hot anymore, and the _thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump_ of his heart gradually falls away.

_Calm down!_

Those are the first words he hears clearly.

It sounds like the voice is coming from his head, like it’s _his_ voice, but his voice couldn't sound that deep if he tried.

He must be going crazy—and that . . . is not a comforting first thought.

 _I said,_ **_calm down_** _,_ _kid. You’re—well, you're still sane. Mostly. As sane as you can be, during a war,_ the… the _voice_ says.

Kakashi still isn't sure whether it’s real. He wants it to be real, because that would mean he isn’t crazy, but—well, he’s not sure that he wants to think about the consequences of having another person in his head.

“What—”

There’s a sigh, and then, _I’m you, I guess. Or you're me. Or, well, you_ **_were_ ** _me._

Kakashi blinks, rather owlishly, and asks, “Excuse me?”

And if people still thought he was sane before, he’s sure that anyone would think him crazy now, what with the _talking aloud to the voice in his head_ and everything.

He's so _tired,_  though, from the anxiety of before and from the confusion of now, so he can’t even really say that he cares at the moment. He's . . . actually not sure if he can make himself _seem_ sane, if anyone happens to come around.

The voice laughs—no, Kakashi thinks, it’s more like the voice _breathes_ as though it had come close, so very very close, to laughing, but hadn’t, and then while Kakashi is thinking about all that, it speaks once more. _I’m you, just—just a bit lost on the road of life._

And Kakashi scoffs, because—it's okay now, he can do his own thing, he can _breathe_ and he doesn't even want to  _think_ about losing control again—and his next words are confident because he is quite certain that the voice is a _he,_ rather than an _it._ “That’s just _stupid_ , you senile old man.”

Then, there is undeniable laughter coming from the man, and it is as smug as it is bright.

Asshole.

Kakashi decides on the spot that he hates the voice in his head.

...And that he's _definitely_ crazy.

 

Kakashi is brushing his teeth in the morning when the man speaks to him again. Kakashi startles, and does not drop his toothbrush because dignified shinobi such as he is do not drop things when scared—instead, he rinses out his mouth and puts the toothbrush down on the edge of the sink—and asks the man, in a rather sharp tone, what he wants.

 _Oh, nothing. I just wanted to check on my cute little mini-me._  

“Your what."

_Well, I did say that you’re me, didn’t I? Or do I need to make this clear again?_

“You don’t need—”

_Hmm . . . I think I’ll be . . . Big Kakashi! That makes sense. You can be Little Kakashi._

Kakashi is not little, and he tells the man as much. “I am not little. And you are not me. I’m me, and there can't be two of me.”

 _Yo_ _u are eight years old, of_ **_course_ ** _you’re small_ , the man who cannot possibly be him says. _And I_ **_am_ ** _you. Just a bit lost, you know, on the road of life._

Kakashi forces himself to calm down—irritation is not an advantage here—and think. The man is inside his head, which is either good or bad, depending on how one looks at it. Kakashi is leaning toward _not good,_ but the man doesn’t seem to have bad intentions. Or, if he does, he’s quite good at hiding them. 

He sighs, still trying to keep his frustration buried underneath layers and layers of apathy, and says, “My _age_ doesn't matter if I'm already a _chūnin_.”

The man barks out a laugh—and, oh gods, it sounds like his _father_ , all gentle and smooth for all that it’s halting and hesitant—except not because his father is _completely different,_ his father would never rile him up like this, and—

It doesn't matter. He needs to calm down. Again.

 **_Chūnin_ ** _doesn't mean anything during_ _wartime,_  the man says harshly. _The most incompetent kid on the face of this earth could be chūnin at four and no one would give a damn. During wartime, it's not your rank—it's your skills._

Kakashi wants to _scream_ , or throw something,or maybe just punch the mirror he’s standing in front of. Who does this guy think he _is_? “I am _not_ incompetent. I am—" 

The man hums.  _I never said you were, don't make assumptions. No, you're good. For your age, that is._

“For my age? But I’m—” Kakashi stops, because _that just sounds arrogant_ , and he is _not_ arrogant. Arrogance gets you killed. His father said so, and if his father said so it must be right. He takes a deep breath, and asks, “What do you mean?”

 _I mean a lot of things. You're good, sure, good enough to be chūnin, but there are many things you still need to fix or change entirely. For example, you let your emotions take hold of you_ **_much_ ** _too easily. You’re already having a hissy fit, and we haven’t even been talking for ten minutes. What if you lose your temper in the battlefield and get everyone around you killed? Worse, what if your dislike of an ally results in your leaving them to die? What if you let grudges get in the way of professionalism?_

Kakashi crosses his arms, uncomfortable, because that is _not_ something he can argue against. And yet, possibly due to the defiant streak that he’s tried and failed to get rid of, or maybe even due to the fact that this man is _irritating as fuck,_ he still tries.

“I’m not emotional.”

Which is, of course, a straight up lie, but the man can’t possibly know that. Can he?

He hears a heavy sigh just before the man speaks.  _And you're_ **_stubborn_** _, which is good, sometimes, but it can very well be a double-edged sword._  

This time, Kakashi stays silent—he doesn't want to _prove the man right_ , that's like spilling all of your village’s secrets in an interrogation. But the urge to speak up is strong, and Kakashi _detests_ how well the man gets under his skin. It’s—it’s like the man knows what all of his buttons are, and _where_ they are, and how to push them _just so,_ so that Kakashi can’t help but react.

Kakashi has the sudden impulse to deck the man, and then he realizes that it’s silly because he can’t even _see_ the voice in his head, so he’d just be punching himself—and,  _whoops,_ the man’s talking again, and Kakashi hasn’t been listening.

 _—And you can't just_ **_follow the rules no matter what._ ** _Kid, we_ **_all_ ** _know how fucked up those rules can be. You wanna live the rest of your life scarred beyond repair because you followed some old geezer with an eye for power’s rules? There are people far greater than you that have fallen to something as simple as orders._

Kakashi opens his mouth to speak, but is immediately interrupted. Yes, Kakashi thinks grimly. He really _hates_ this guy.

 _Why are you still trying to argue? I'm right. You_ **_know_ ** _I’m right, even if you won’t admit it—and you won’t, because I’ve always been a stubborn little bastard, but you should at least_ **_think_ ** _about it before you open your mouth._  

Kakashi scoffs—that man is _not right_ —and then he actually manages to speak this time. “I don't even _know who you are._ You could be—you could be some guy from Kiri, using a jutsu on my mind! Trying to—to _something_! To intimidate me, or something, to make me tell you secrets! War secrets!”

Kakashi, of course, doesn't believe a word coming out of his own mouth. He doesn’t even _know_ any war secrets, for the gods’ sakes.

 _I told you—I’m you. If I were from Kiri, I’d be in an_ **_actual adult’s_ ** _head, rather than an eight-year-old’s. You don’t even_ **_know_ ** _any war secrets. I certainly didn’t, when I was your age._

The man sounds annoyed, and he also sounds like he’s hiding something. Kakashi does not appreciate being kept from knowledge—and besides, it’s not as though Kakashi is _trying_ to annoy the man. The man is just . . . being difficult.

“Maybe you're trying to gain my trust,” he says with no small amount of petulance. Because at this point, he’s given up trying to be dignified. People _always_ think children are easier to manipulate, even though he’s not sure he qualifies as a child anymore. “Besides, my sensei’s famous, so maybe you're trying to get info on _him_.” _Why_ is he still talking? Kakashi’s sure that he’s made a fool of himself three times over by now. “But I wouldn't do as you say anyway. So—so stop trying to talk to me. Go away, get out of my head.” 

Another sigh, and then, _Listen, little guy. We need to talk. Can you listen?_  

Kakashi doesn't respond, deciding to cross his arms and obstinately ignore the man. The man seems to take it as a _yes, voice-in-my-head-sama, please regale me with your honorable and interesting life story._

The man continues.  _Let’s see . . . Well, I suppose we should start with the day I received an actual team. I graduated the academy at five years old, so naturally, everyone considered me a prodigy and a genius. You're usually put in genin teams, with a jounin-sensei and two other graduates. I suppose you know that, though. I, however, was entered into an apprenticeship because of my advanced skill set. My sensei was great, and I loved him to death, although he was usually busy and I had to learn on my own a lot. I received chūnin rank at six, and when I was ten—or was it nine? Must not be important if I can’t remember it all that well—my sensei asked me if I wanted him to teach two graduates along with me. I said yes, reluctantly._ **_Very_ ** _reluctantly._

Kakashi feels himself start to listen, which is _stupid_ , because he shouldn't want to hear this, and he shouldn’t want to listen to a potential-but-probably-not enemy, but he is anyway, and then he decides that none of this matters anyway, so listening won’t be _too_ harmful.

 _One of them was a girl, a medic-nin hopeful with purple clan markings on her cheeks who had a crush on me. And I mean_ ** _big_** _crush. The other was a boy—the most_ ** _idiotic_** _Uchiha I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, except maybe the one guy I met later on who isn’t important right now._ _He was always late, with the most_ ** _idiotic_** _excuses, and he wore_ ** _orange goggles._** _Bright, headache inducing,_ ** _orange_** _goggles. The two of them were best friends. I mean, attached at the hip kind of best friends—loud together, quiet together, all sorts of together. And the boy was obviously head-over-heels for this girl. Well, anyway, enough about them, and more about me. I was stubborn. Didn't want to like them, or even admit that they weren't actually_ ** _that bad—_** _but I_ ** _did_** _like them. I did. And within a year, I had to admit to myself that they were pretty good—well, for recent graduates, anyway._

The man pauses here, and Kakashi is about to ask why he had stopped talking when the man continues his story.

 _I . . . I distanced myself from them. About the worst mistake I could have made, actually, because I was stuck caring_ so _much about them, and I never did anything about it._ **_Couldn’t_ ** _do anything about it, actually, because I wouldn’t_ **_let_ ** _myself. So I watched my two teammates grow closer and closer together, and watched my sensei give me the most_ **_disappointed_ ** _looks when he knew I was watching him, when he knew I could **see** how much he wanted me to join my teammates, and I did—_ ** _nothing_** _. I did absolutely nothing._

The man sounds sad. _Sad,_ and Kakashi wants to ask him what’s wrong, but he _knows_ what’s wrong even if he doesn’t understand caring about someone your age so much. He cares about his father, yes, of _course_ he cares about his father—but it doesn’t sound the same as what the man is describing 

Kakashi feels oddly contrite. He doesn’t know what he’s sorry for, what he’s guilty for, but it’s _there,_ in the back of his mind, strong and demanding, and he can’t help but tense up a little and glance around the bathroom warily. It isn’t until he realizes that the emotion isn’t coming from him that he relaxes.

 _Do you want to know what happened to my teammates?_  

Kakashi, against all better judgement, nods tentatively. The man must be able to sense it, because he keeps talking.

_They died. Died, and the last conversation I had with one of them was an argument. Died, and I killed one of them. The—the end._

The man’s voice stumbles over itself.

Kakashi doesn’t know what to feel. There’s obvious grief in the man’s words, obvious regret, so different from the playful sarcasm and disappointed lectures from just minutes before, and he _feels_ it like it’s his own, like he was there and argued with a teammate, like he— _killed_ his other teammate. He can’t imagine not apologizing to Minato-sensei after an argument. Can’t imagine killing his—his own—

It doesn’t matter.

He _won’t_ do any of it, and that’s that. Kakashi wishes that he didn’t feel so strongly about all this, even though he knows that it's not really him, it's the man. And he wishes that the man would keep his emotions to _himself._

Because he doesn’t _want_ to trust the man, doesn’t want to even entertain the slightest possibility that the man is—is _him,_ but it’s hard _not_ to trust someone when their grief is so plain to see, so raw and close that Kakashi comes dangerously close to not being able to separate his emotions and the man’s.

And as for the man—he _isn’t even done talking._  

 _After—after that mess, my sensei became . . . well, he became a_ **_very_ ** _important figure in the government. The war was over, he allowed me to become ANBU, and his wife got pregnant._

Kakashi feels like more _bad_ (read: grief, and other assorted emotions—both something that Kakashi is not fond of dealing with, and even less so at the moment) is coming, because the not-his-emotion emptiness in his chest _skyrockets_.

 _Next thing I know, both of them are_ ** _dead_** _and I'm_ ** _legally unable_** _to take care of their child, even though I want to, I want to take care of him because he was_ ** _sensei’s_** _and now he’s gotta be_ ** _mine._** _All because that_ _shitty excuse for a Hokage_ _said I’d only spill S-ranked secrets to the kid_. The man laughs, mockingly, lightly—but Kakashi can see through that emotion like it’s made of glass—and says, _because I’m_ ** _that_** _stupid, apparently._ ** _Me,_** _stupid._ _It's funny, because he says all that, gives me this great big spiel about protecting the boy’s identity and protecting his well-being when he was_ ** _hated his whole life_** **_anyway because someone else leaked it to the civilians and then to him,_** _and then the Hokage goes and makes me the boy’s_ ** _jōnin sensei._** _Can you_ ** _believe_** _it?_

Kakashi absently notices that his mouth is dry. His hands shake with a fury that is not his. The tiles of the bathroom wall swim in and out of his vision, but the voice in his head is sharp and clear, and ice-cold.

 _Can you believe it?_ The man repeats, slowly, and Kakashi thinks, no—no, he can't.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We said updates would be every two weeks but we were so excited to bring you the chapter that we wanted to post early! Hope you enjoy this one!!!
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: panic attack(s)

The voice in his head wakes him up, because of course he oversleeps the one time it actually matters—the one time Minato will _be_ there instead of being on some important mission.

 _Your alarm clock is broken,_ the man informs him.

Kakashi sighs. The day is already off to a _great_ start. He stumbles through his morning routine, carefully looking at the clock in the living room to make sure he won’t be late, and after he straps on his chūnin vest, he books it toward training ground eight.

Minato is waiting for him, patient smile fixed onto his face. “Kakashi!” he says by way of greeting. “It’s been a while.”

_Minato-sensei._

It’s barely a whisper in his head, but—but the man says it with so much _longing_ that Kakashi has to physically take a step back. He wants to throw up. For the most part, he ignores the confusion on his sensei’s face, but puts a hand up to show that he’s fine.

_Minato . . . sensei? He’s not your teacher._

The man waits just a few seconds before responding. _He_ ** _was_** _my teacher._ _My hero._ It’s quiet, so very quiet, and Kakashi hates the grief and the sadness and the _everything_ that spills over from the man to him.

_You aren’t me. Stop it._

At this point—Kakashi is inclined to believe that he’s being haunted by a ghost that thinks it’s him, but he won’t voice his suspicions out loud, because in Kakashi’s humble opinion, only one thing sounds even worse than admitting there’s a voice in your head—and that’s admitting that you think the voice in your head is a ghost, or a spirit, or _something._

The man sighs, and Kakashi can feel resignment in the back of his mind. _One day, mini-me. One day you’ll stop being so stubborn. Maybe a trip down the road of life would do you some good._

Kakashi’s not sure what to think, so he doesn’t, and he turns back to Minato to apologize, but he knows even before he opens his mouth that he’s lost control.

And it’s— _scary._  

He can’t even control his own breathing, because someone else is breathing _for_ him. He can’t _stop_ breathing, of course, but he can’t breathe, either. He can’t blink, but he can’t _not_ blink, and it’s terrifying because Kakashi, like all good shinobi, _needs_ control. He needs to be in control of his actions, because in battle, even one wrong move can turn a situation sour. He needs to be aware of every single part of his body at all times, needs to be aware that he can _move_ those parts of his body, and if he can’t, if he messes up even a little, he’s going to get someone killed someday—whether it’s himself or others.

 _Stop,_ he tries to tell the man. _Stop, okay? This isn’t—I don’t—_

The man, of course, outright ignores him. Kakashi can sense a sort of determined, purposeful feeling coming from the man, and he doesn’t like where he thinks this is leading.

“Minato-sensei,” Kakashi says, out loud. Of _course,_ Kakashi thinks through the hard panic. First it’s his father—and he does wish he had never said it, no matter _how_ happy his father had looked, no matter _how_ happy he had been walking out that door—and then it’s his jōnin sensei. “Sorry—for being late. It really _has_ been a while, hasn’t it?” He laughs, awkwardly and quietly. Kakashi hates it. “And—”

The man seems at a sudden loss for words, and Kakashi’s mouth doesn’t work anymore, and Kakashi is trying his best to take a breath, to twitch his fingers, to do _anything,_ but the man’s control over his body is absolute and rigid and won’t let him do anything. So he settles for a string of curses that would horrify Minato if he knew that Kakashi was reciting them.

It’s stupid. It’s stupid and childish, but Kakashi _is_ a child, like the man has said to him so many times, and he _feels_ stupid and childish right now.

He wishes he could move.

“Kakashi? Are you alright?” Minato looks worried for a moment, but his features smooth out quickly, and he grins instead. “You _never_ apologize for being late.”

Kakashi— _not Kakashi, not Kakashi—_ stuffs his hands in his pockets and smiles underneath the mask. It’s a wobbly smile, because the muscles aren’t familiar with being used like this, but it’s genuine all the same—and yet, Kakashi thinks, it’s _not_ genuine, because it isn’t _his_ smile, it’s the man’s smile, and it feels disgusting on his face.

“I guess I don’t. But I felt like saying sorry today. I was . . . thinking, I guess. And I need to tell you something.” Here, Kakashi falters. He wonders why the man is hesitating, even though he’s glad that he’s stopped talking. The air stinks of doubt. And then, before too much time has passed, and certainly before Minato can decide to _do_ anything about it, the man finds his footing and continues to talk, this time in a much stronger voice. “I—well—I guess I could say that I, ah, appreciate you. A lot. For training me and stuff. And I never say anything like this so I figured it’s about _time_ I thanked you because you’re—an awesome sensei, you know that? And I hope that you know it, I mean I _know_ you do, and that’s kind of silly, but I want you to know that _I_ think you’re a good teacher. And you—you never let me down, okay? Even if you’re gone sometimes on missions, even if you’re busy sometimes and even if you’re frustrated sometimes you never _ever_ made me feel disappointed or angry with you so—so—”

Kakashi is breathing too quickly. Just a little, but it’s noticeable. Is—is he going to _cry?_  

He sniffles, quietly. Quietly, for all that it’s still too loud and Minato is _right there, only a few feet away_ and he can very clearly hear Kakashi struggling—because he has to, he wouldn’t be as good as he is if he can’t read even the slightest of signs, and then Kakashi has to stop thinking because he’s not even sure whether these thoughts are his own.

And doesn’t _that_ make him feel defeated? 

Minato looks sad. Sad, and weary, and looking for all the world like he’s about to cry. His expression is walking along that fine line between flat and—and Kakashi doesn’t even know, doesn’t even have _words_ for what he is beginning to see on his teacher’s face, and his mouth is beginning to curve gently down, and the beginning of Kakashi’s name forms in his teacher’s mouth but goes unspoken, for the most part. 

And then, suddenly, almost impulsively, Minato quickly crosses the short distance between them and sweeps Kakashi into a warm hug. “I know you must be worried about your dad. It’s okay. Thank you for saying that—it means a lot to me, you going out of your comfort zone to tell me this. I could sense that you weren’t entirely okay with saying what you did, but that you said it anyway, and that you meant it, and I’m very grateful. I’m sure—I’m sure Sakumo will be fine, okay? And I’m not going anywhere until he comes back.” He pulls back for a moment, large hands resting on Kakashi’s small shoulders, and fixes him with a hard look. “I didn’t earn the name ‘Yellow Flash’ for nothing, okay? I’m not an _S-ranked shinobi_ for show. You’re gonna be fine. I’m gonna be fine. I’m going to make _sure_ you’ll be fine, okay, Kakashi?” 

Kakashi—the _man,_ not Kakashi—nods slowly, hesitantly, and then his whole body sags into Minato’s embrace. He _lets Minato hug him,_ and if that isn’t weird, if that isn’t on the List of Things Kakashi Never Thought He Would Do, then—Kakashi can’t even think of an appropriate metaphor for this. For something as—as monumental as this.

It’s foreign, and Kakashi isn’t sure _why_ this is even _happening_ and he’s not even completely sure that he knows _what_ is happening, and the questions circle around in his head and they don’t stop until _finally—_ until _finally,_ he can breathe on his own, can blink on his own, and before he can stop, before he can even slow down and _think_ about it, he rips himself away from his teacher, and takes a few—first one, then two, and then ten—steps back.

He eyes Minato warily, tries to shake off his panic, and ignores the voice in his head.

Minato startles, and blinks. “Kakashi?”

“Nothing,” Kakashi says—probably too quickly for Minato to _not_ suspect something, but he can't really think right now, so he cuts himself some slack.

Minato tilts his head—he is the picture of innocent confusion. Kakashi suspects that this is what it really _is—_ just confusion, and just wondering why Kakashi suddenly stepped away like that. “Did something else happen, Kakashi? Are you okay?”

“What?” And if Kakashi looks a bit too worried, a bit too caught, just for a moment—well. He certainly isn't going to acknowledge it. “What makes you think something happened?”

Minato frowns. “If something hadn't happened, you wouldn't be freaking out right now. Not so soon after—well, not so soon after I hugged you. You know you can talk to me about anything, right? Like I said before—I’m _here_ for you. I want you to trust me as much as I trust you.”

Kakashi shakes his head. He will say this until everyone believes it. “I’m fine, sensei." 

Sensei dismisses his words almost immediately, shaking his head and giving him a small, but not unfriendly frown. “We can talk about it later, then.”

Kakashi resists the urge to stomp his foot. “But I said—”

“I know what you said.”

Kakashi hears laughter in his head, and wants to hit himself in the hope that it'll hurt the man as well.

 _It won’t. I’m just in your head, after all. I could feel pain if I_ **_wanted_ ** _to, probably—but why would I?_  

Kakashi pulls out his mightiest scowl. Adults are just _stupid._ Especially senile old men who call themselves Big Kakashi and make him say mushy things to his sensei.

(He ignores it when the laughter intensifies at that thought.)

 

For the rest of the lesson, Kakashi is outwardly silent. He goes through his katas too stiffly, and then after sensei points it out, he goes through them too loosely. His jutsus are okay, at least. But his target practice is a total failure because the man won’t _leave him alone to concentrate._  

 _Your wrist is a bit too loose, but your grip on the kunai is too tight. You’ll make your fingers stiff,_ the man says. _Your form isn’t fluid enough, it’s not quick enough, and you take too long to aim at other targets. You won’t be able to hit a moving target precisely enough to kill it._  

 _I_ **_know!_ ** Kakashi feels like punching down a tree or two—even though he is far from capable of doing so—and it’s even worse because Minato is looking at him expectantly, like he _knows_ Kakashi should be doing better—which is true, but it still grates at him to admit it.

 _Then put it into practice,_ the man snaps at him. _Gods, this is almost as bad as my own genin team was. At least you_ **_sort of_ ** _know what you’re doing._

Kakashi has to hold back a real, honest-to-the-gods physical growl, because _he is not a genin and should not be compared to one._ In response, the man just radiates a smugness that transcends words. 

Kakashi pauses mid-throw, readjusts his stance and his grip—and that _rankles,_ to take advice from the _actual voice in his head_ —and flicks the kunai at the target. To his surprise and mild chagrin, it hits the dummy exactly where he wants it to. 

The man laughs at him. Kakashi tells him to shut up.

He can see sensei on his left, looking slightly worried now instead of expectant, but after he improves and focuses and can hit the targets with only slightly varied success, Minato relaxes and gives him a thumbs-up. Kakashi doesn’t smile, but he does nod. 

After target practice, he spars with sensei. It’s difficult, because even though Minato is holding back, he’s still an S-ranked shinobi, and it’s all Kakashi can do to defend. It’s even harder because sensei _doesn’t call out his jutsu._ So unless Kakashi recognizes the signs—and even that much is hard, because Minato flies through hand seals faster than Kakashi can follow—he doesn’t know what Minato will do, and he has to improvise, and improvise _well._

And what’s more—sensei tells him which elements to use. Even as he’s forming jutsus of his own, even as he’s giving orders to clones and dodging Kakashi’s occasional attack, he’ll still call out, “Lightning!” “Earth!” and “Water!” once in awhile—just to see if Kakashi can pull off a jutsu in that specific element. Most of the time, he can’t perform anything other than simple to average lightning jutsu and an occasional water jutsu.

It’s grueling, but it’s rewarding all the same, and it makes Kakashi fast.

(If only the old man in his head would _shut up_ sometimes, it would be even more rewarding.

Although, he has to admit that he's getting used to ignoring unimportant distractions in battle, and acknowledging the advice that the man gives him at the same time, so he supposes that it’s not _all_ that bad—but he still hates the man. Senile old _asshole_.) 

When Minato finally ends training, Kakashi belatedly realizes that he’s cornered. 

Not literally, of course, not in a fighting context, but if he runs away without talking to Minato, his teacher will _know_ that something happened—but if he says that nothing is going on, sensei will _know_ he's lying and—neither seems like an option, really.

And there’s not even the distraction of more training to get him out of the situation. Damn. No, really—gods _damnit._ He thinks he can feel the man being smug. Smug in an ‘I got you into this situation, and I’m not getting you out of it’ way.

So then, after Kakashi is visibly done being mad at the voice in his head (although—Minato wouldn’t notice _that_ ), Minato says, “Kakashi, if something happened to get you so . . . _out of it,_ you need to tell me. Maybe I could help you resolve the issue.”

Kakashi shakes his head, answering, “Nothing really happened. It's like you said, I’m just—just worried. About—uh, my dad. It's nothing.”

And isn't he just full of _shit_?

Minato doesn't believe him. Of _course_ Minato doesn’t believe him, because why would he? “Kakashi, did you—maybe have a fight with Sakumo? Before he left? Is that why you're worried?”

Kakashi scrunches his nose up, confused about how the man came to that conclusion. “What? No, why would we fight?”

“You’re sure.” And then, when Kakashi nods, Minato asks, “Then what is it? And don't say it's nothing, because I know that isn't true.”

Kakashi shuffles his feet awkwardly as he mumbles out the most convincing lie he can think of in the moment. “I—I’m just really stressed, lately, Minato-sensei. Everyone—everyone thinks something will happen and that—the war’s going to get _even bigger_ and my dad . . . he's really stressed, but he won't _say_ anything, and it’s just _awful_ and _bad_ because he always tells me everything and I wish he would just—” 

Kakashi stops, forcefully, suddenly, but very much deliberately. He had just crossed the line between _lying_ and _half-lying_ , and he had been rambling and—oh gods, isn't _that_ an awful thought? Hatake Kakashi, _rambling._

Minato takes a deep breath before responding. “I get it. Something like that must be terrifying for someone your age. When your dad gets back, maybe you could talk to him about it. Or just—just be there with him. Take a day off to just spend some time together. You need to tell your dad that you’re worried. Believe me when I say that communication is _key._ No relationship—familial or otherwise—will work unless everybody knows what’s going on." 

Kakashi nods, slowly, thinking about it because it’s actually good advice, and finally, Minato lets him leave.

 

“So,” Kakashi says, angrily, once he is safe within the walls of his home. “Why do you keep _doing_ that?”

 _Doing what?_ The question is asked with such nonchalance, with such _laziness_ that Kakashi feels the ire that only seems to show itself when he’s talking to the man rise up, just beneath his skin.

“You know what,” he grinds out from between clenched teeth. He doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to acknowledge that it even _happened,_ but he must—in a small way, at least, because he will never be able to stop it unless he recognizes it. 

_Do I?_

And Kakashi can _feel_ the shit-eating grin on the man’s face. He can feel it, and it aggravates him to no end. Angers him, really, because the man won’t take him _seriously,_ because the man treats Kakashi like a child only when it benefits the man and not when he _should._ “The—the _thing_ where you—you—” 

_Where I make you say meaningful and thoughtful things to people that need to hear it?_

The man is dangerously close to sounding condescending, and it _galls_ Kakashi, it nettles and bothers and burns him, because he’s gotten condescension from almost every adult he knows, and he’d thought that this one would be different because only Kakashi can hear him, because only Kakashi can—can _do_ anything about him. Evidently, he had been wrong.

“It’s not _funny,_ ” Kakashi hisses, anger lashing around inside of him like scalding whips. “It’s _scary,_ and I bet you don’t know what it feels like to—to not even be able to control the simplest motions, I—why are you even doing this? Why won’t you just—”

 _You ever been caught in a shadow-binding jutsu, kid? The Nara are some terrifying people. I guess that’s what it might be like._ And then, having gotten that out of the way, the man says, _I never said it was funny._ The statement is serious, almost uncharacteristically so. _I said that those people are people who need to hear it. Minato-sensei gave you some good advice. You have to_ **_communicate_ ** _with people, little Kakashi. You can’t just appreciate them from a distance, or even, well, love them from a distance, and expect everything to be fine. That’s not how people work. You can’t force yourself to work like that._

“I—know that. I _know_ that. You don’t need to tell me! I would’ve said it, eventually. You’re some stranger, some outsider looking in. You don’t even _know_ me, you don’t know _anything,_ you don’t have a _right_ to just barge in and make me _do_ things like that.” Kakashi’s voice wobbles dangerously by the end of his little tirade, and he frowns when the man doesn’t respond immediately.

 _I do know you,_ is the eventual answer. It’s heavy, and strangely final, and Kakashi is beginning to think that he’s overstepped some kind of boundary, that he’s actually offended the man, when something _shifts_ , abruptly and completely unexpectedly, and now Kakashi feels smugness radiating off of the man like heat from the sun. _I know you like the back of my hand, midget._

Kakashi is getting absolutely _nowhere_ with this. The room is too hot, and the floor beneath his feet is too rough, and the sound of crickets chirping outside is too loud and it _scrapes_ against his ears, stings at them like angry wasps and he wants to—he wants to yell at the man. He wants to get up in the man’s face, if he has one, and shout and scream and make the man _see_ him as a shinobi, not as a—a younger version of the man, but as _himself_. As Hatake Kakashi, a chūnin, a genius, a _shinobi_. But he can’t, because nothing would happen anyway, probably—the man would snark him, and then he would talk about how small Kakashi is.

And really, Kakashi doesn’t mind the jabs about his height. It’s what the taunts _imply_ that irritates him. It’s the fact that the man always seems to be insinuating that Kakashi should just listen to him, should just _allow the man to control him_ because he thinks he knows better just because he’s older. 

Well, Kakashi decides. It probably doesn’t matter. He forces his breathing to even out, forces himself to calm down, and only then does he trust himself to talk without saying something foolish.

“In any case, just _stop,_ okay? I’ll tell people they’re cool. Just tell me _when_ I should do it instead of invading my body, or whatever it is that you’re doing. You keep telling me you know me, you’re telling me you _are_ me, but—but even if you are, _I’m_ not _you_ ! _I’m not you._ I don’t care if you know me, okay? I don’t even _care_ at this point. I just want to _be_ me. I don’t want to go through meeting people without even knowing if I get to control what I _say_ around them!”

The man is silent, and Kakashi takes a small amount of satisfaction in knowing that he has—apparently, at least—rendered the man speechless.

Then the man does speak again, and it is to say, _I’m—bad with kids._

And _that_ makes Kakashi angry again—it shreds through the thin layers of coolness and reason that he had wrapped around himself. “Then don’t _treat_ me like a child!” He slams his fist into the doorframe of his room. “Even if I _am_ one, even though I look like one, you don’t have to _treat_ me like one. You said I should communicate, so now I’m communicating. You need to take your _own_ advice. If you constantly thinking of me as a child gets in the way of you acting _responsibly_ around me, with you telling me things that are _important,_ then you need to either get _good_ with children, or you need to treat me like an equal.” Kakashi’s voice shakes. “Do you _get it_ now?”

 _I—yeah, okay._ The man stops, and uncertainty creeps up on Kakashi’s anger. It’s the _man’s_ uncertainty, not his, _never_ his, and he _knows_ that, but he can’t help but feel a little hesitant himself. It’s _weird,_ the emotional whiplash that he’s feeling, and he wishes that he could just be angry _or_ hesitant, and not—not whatever this is. Kakashi is just about done waiting for an answer—just about ready to turn around and actually go into his room and go to bed and forget about the whole thing because it’s probably pointless anyway—when the man speaks up again. _I made a mistake. I apologize. And—I won’t do it anymore. The whole controlling your body thing. Not without your permission, at least._  

“Good,” Kakashi breathes, and the amount of relief that accompanies the word is surprising. He hadn’t really expected it to be this _easy,_ even though it shouldn’t have been anything else. Tension fades out of his posture, slowly but surely, and he occupies himself during his cooldown period by organizing his supplies for tomorrow.

He’s _exhausted,_ albeit feeling considerably less angry than before.

And whose fault is this, he thinks to himself. It’s the man’s.

Senile old asshole. 

 _I am_ **_not_ ** _senile,_ the man insists, and he seems to realize that he’s being thrown a line, because he keeps his tone carefully light. _Well, actually—no, no, not senile. And I take ‘old’ as a compliment, you know. You’ll have to try better than that._

“Senile young asshole,” Kakashi tries. It sounds weird, though, and awkward, too, so he decides that he’ll have to come up with a new nickname entirely. “Anyway, you probably have tons of wrinkles, seeing as you’re so old. I bet you’re _ugly._ ”

 _You realize that this is doing nothing to help your ‘acknowledge me as the mature and competent person that I am,’ case, right?_ the man teases.

Kakashi scours his mind for any kind of proper response, indignant or otherwise, and finds—nothing. So he settles on crossing his arms and _hmph_ ing. “I’m tired. Leave me alone so I can go to bed. If I’m such a _child,_ doesn’t that mean I should get a proper night’s sleep?" 

_Hmm. Well . . . what I think . . . is that you’re right! Goodnight, my cute little mini-me._

Kakashi definitely does _not_ growl at the nickname, because that would be improper conduct for a shinobi such as he is, and he most certainly does _not_ slam his bedroom door shut. And finally, he absolutely, positively, unquestionably _does not_ huddle up in a small ball inside his blankets when he goes to bed.

 

The man speaks to him the next day just as he’s going to eat his breakfast. It comes without any warning whatsoever, but Kakashi isn’t surprised when he hears the voice. 

_Good morning, little Kakashi! I hope you slept well, you little caterpillar. But that’s not important. About dad—I think we should talk._

 . . . And _now_ he is startled, because _what's wrong with his dad?_ Did something happen that he somehow doesn’t know about? He feels like the man has just dumped a bucket of ice water on his head.

“Wha—I don't—what do you even _mean_ by that? What about dad? Do you think—something’s going to happen? Has something _already_ happened?” Kakashi manages to choke out, dropping his plate of curry-rice on the table nervously. He is distantly glad that the thing had only been a few centimeters up from the wood surface, or he would have had a spectacular mess to clean up.

The man laughs, and it’s such a _tired_ laugh that it manages to exhaust Kakashi, too. _Don't worry, little Kakashi. I’m just here to give you a speech on the importance of fathers._

“What—what about him?”

 _It—well, first, tell me, how important do you think he is? And I mean personally. Don’t tell me about his position in the village, not anything like that, and I also want you to tell me_ **_honestly_** _. How do you feel about dad?_  

Kakashi breathes in and out slowly, trying to think through the muddle in his brain.

“How do I feel about dad? Um—” He scratches his head absently as he speaks. “He’s—ah, he's really important to me. I think. Um, I love him, I guess. I don't—I don't _know_ , don't know how to describe it. _Him_ , I don't know how to describe him. He’s always there for me, I guess. I—he’s just _important_.”

_That so?_

Kakashi feels _awkward_ and _embarrassed_ , and he wants to _shove a pillow over his head_ and hide from the world. From the man. Even what little he had managed to say had been  _embarrassing_ , utterly and completely so. It's even _worse_ that he doesn't know how the man even _wants_ him to respond.

He's just _so_ confused, but he nods anyway because it’s important to answer the questions people ask you. 

 _Alright._ And, suddenly—almost _too_ suddenly, really—Kakashi can feel a foggy sort of grief surrounding the man. It spills over—bleeds over—into Kakashi’s emotions until he can feel the fingertips of sadness touching _him,_ too. _That man—our father, Hatake Sakumo, the White Fang of Konohagakure—is always going to be the most important person in your life. No matter what—whatever happens, whether he's alive or dead, you'll always want to go to him for help. Whether it’s a simple decision, like, ‘should I really kill this man, or can I leave him unconscious?’ or a life changer, like, ‘should I ask this person to marry me?’—no matter how big or small, you'll always want his advice. Because you_ **_know_ ** _he's probably better at whatever it is, because he's your_ **_father,_ ** _and he's amazing and he’s lived longer than you so he’s got all this experience, and even if he really has no idea how to help, you'll just_ **_feel_ ** _like he knows better. And it helps him, too, when he sees his son trusting him like that, when he sees his son come to him for advice on even the smallest and most insignificant of things. No matter what you do, he's going to be on your mind, because you can't help wondering how he'd do something. And no matter what you do, he’s going to be on your_ **_side._ **  

Kakashi feels the intensity of the man’s grief rising, slowly but surely, as he washes his dishes. He nods, because, well, that all makes sense. He doesn't know _why_ it makes sense—it really shouldn't, because he's never thought like that before and he doesn’t see why he should now—but it does. He understands what he's being told, somehow.

_He's always going to be important. Even if you can’t see why you should stop for even a second and consider it—that doesn’t stop you from doing it anyway. Doesn’t stop you from thinking about him, doesn’t stop you from knowing how important he is to you._

“I know,” Kakashi mumbles, because he _does_. It feels weird, suddenly having something he's always believed but never _noticed_ that he believed revealed to him like this, and although the whole thing is strange, strange and new, Kakashi feels— _grateful,_ almost—to the man.

 _Good_ , the man says, and the conversation fades into a comfortable silence.

But it's not really that comfortable, is it. 

Kakashi wants to say something. He wants to _do_ something, wants to do _anything_ in the hopes that it'll lift the quiet that is quickly becoming—oppressive, almost. He wants to say something to comfort the man, because he has to have lost _somebody_ , lost some _thing,_ because otherwise how could he talk like that? How could he be so adamant in his opinion of Kakashi's father?

It’s raining outside, Kakashi notices absently. Rain in June is not unheard of, but it’s—weird. Weird, and warm, and calming, and it’s just the slightest bit bothersome.

The man says nothing.

The silence continues.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Thanks for sticking around! We really hope you like this chapter!
> 
> Warning(s) for this chapter: panic attack(s), mention(s) of suicide.
> 
> Leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!

The moment he wakes up, dread hits him like a tall wave.

“What’s going on?” he asks. He is lying on his back, facing the ceiling, and he is rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes. Kakashi sighs. The man is silent, and it _bothers_ him. It’s—quite hypocritical, actually, because Kakashi almost _always_ prefers silence over speech. But at least he’s _trying,_ now, to communicate. “Old man?”

_Nothing. It’s—well, I can tell you later. Go eat breakfast, mini-me._

“Fine. But you had _better_ tell me. I can feel what you’re feeling and it’s _distracting,_ okay?”

_Yeah, yeah, okay._

The heavy, cold trepidation subsides, for the most part, as he goes through his normal morning routine. He’s not hungry, but he makes himself eat breakfast anyway, because if he doesn’t, the man will just bother him about it until he finally does. It’s—not bad. He doesn’t have any plans today—maybe he’ll take a D-rank or two—so he isn’t really in a hurry.

He feels warm, relaxed, and it’s the best he’s been since he fought with the man a couple of days ago. He pulls his mask over his face, ties on his hitai-ate, and heads toward the door. He pauses, briefly, for just a moment, to check the calendar and to make sure that he knows the date, and when his eyes hit the decorated sheet that displays _Fri_ _13 June_ on it, the anxious anticipation returns in full force. 

Kakashi stops moving, his hand on the half-turned doorknob. The metal spins back into its original position with a loud _click_ when he lets go of it. “Uh—old man? What's wrong?”

The man doesn't respond immediately, but that’s nothing new—so Kakashi waits, and waits and waits and _waits,_ before he decides to give up and sit down right there on the floor until he gets an answer. He waits, again, but after thirty seconds his patience wears thin and then it wears _out._ The man is unforthcoming, so Kakashi addresses him again. 

“Hey, geezer. Is something—”

He hears a groan. _Why do you never call me by my name?_

Kakashi crosses his arms, and sighs dramatically. “ _Fine._ What’s your name?” 

_Big Kakashi!_

“Absolutely not. Even if you are me, which is hard to believe but, at this point, not impossible, I would _not_ call you that. It’s degrading. To me. Now—what's wrong?” 

Another groan, and then a childlike kind of stubbornness fills up Kakashi’s chest. It’s the man’s, which signifies that he really doesn’t want to talk about whatever it is, but that he has to anyway, and he doesn’t like it.

It would be funny if Kakashi wasn’t so worried.

 _It's about dad. He's coming home soon,_ the man says tiredly, and it’s such a _shift_ from the playful tone and words that the man had used before.

Kakashi can tell that this is going to be a long conversation, so he gets up slowly, despite the protestations of his creaky, sleepy muscles—he really should have done his stretches as soon as he woke up—and walks into the living room, plopping himself down on the soft, oversized couch that dominates most of the space. “Why is that a bad thing?”

_It's—not, just—just what happened during his mission. It’s—just—_

“Why are you having such a hard time with this? What happened?"

_He saved his teammates._

Kakashi raises his eyebrows. “And why is that a bad thing? Aren't you a huge fan of teamwork?”

 _He abandoned the mission to save his teammates, and—it’s an important mission._ **_Was_ ** _an important mission. He failed, and the war will drag on for longer than it already will._

Kakashi’s hands are loose—had been loose—but now they curl up into tight fists. His father had failed a mission. But he’s _Sakumo._ He _can’t_ fail. “He—he _what—_ ”

 _Don't get upset with him. Please, don't get mad at him. The mission would've failed either way—they were_ ** _set up to fail_** _, he recognized that and he saved his teammates before it could go to shit even more. He's a hero, little Kakashi. They would have died, they would have died in enemy territory—he's a_ ** _hero_** _. He is a goddamn_ ** _hero,_** _and I didn’t even realize that until he’d already been dead for years. Tell him—when—when he gets back,_ ** _tell him_** _that you're proud of him. Tell him he did all he could have, tell him he went above and beyond and not only got himself out of a mission that he wouldn’t have been able to complete, but he got his_ ** _teammates_** _out too. He did a good thing. If you won't tell him, I'll need to go back on my promise to tell him myself, and you_ ** _know_** _you don't want that. Please, just—just tell him how amazing he is. Tell him how proud you are of him,_ ** _please._** _He’s going to come home a defeated and disgraced man, he’s going to come home and everybody is going to look down on him, but_ ** _not you._** _You aren’t going to do that, okay? You’re_ ** _not_** _going to look at him and tell him how much of a failure he is, how bad he did and how he extended the war. You’re going to acknowledge that, yes, but it’s not entirely his fault. It wasn’t only his mission, and part of the reason it failed is that his teammates were taken out first. Make sure he understands that. Make_ ** _sure._**

Kakashi doesn't know how to respond. The man sounds so—so _desperate,_  he—Kakashi—he doesn’t— “What's going to happen if I don't?” He asks, quietly. “What if I don’t—tell him—don’t do any of that? What _happens?"_

_What?_

Kakashi feels the man's slight shock, and the shock turns into something colder, into a subdued kind of terror. 

“Why are you acting like something will—like something bad will happen to him if I don't tell him?”

Sorrow, guilt, exhaustion—they _fill_ Kakashi, overloading his senses with a sudden urge to cry or sleep or yell and there’s _nothing_ he can do and it’s almost as bad as not being in control because these are things that Kakashi has no _right_ to be feeling, and the man feels like this and _Kakashi_ —

Kakashi isn't sure how to feel about it. Because—because if the old guy’s like that—then—then it must mean that something _awful_ is going to happen, and Kakashi—he’s not—if something happens to his _dad—_ if his dad isn’t gonna be _okay_ and— 

“Wh—why aren't you answering me? What's going to—” Kakashi’s breathing speeds up, just slightly, and he pretends not to notice the tremors in his arms. 

_Kakashi, Kakashi, hey, calm down._

(The fact he doesn't call Kakashi little does not escape Kakashi’s notice, but he ignores it in favor of panicking some more.)

“ _What’s gonna happen to dad_?”

There is silence again. Horrible, empty silence, and _then._ _He kills himself because the whole village lets him think he is a failure._  

His dad— _what?_ It takes Kakashi a second or two to process the statement, and when he does, he is—angry, maybe. Sad, maybe. _Grieving,_ maybe, for the loss of a father who hasn’t even died yet. He can’t identify it, but the emotion is hot, and it sits there and smolders in his chest until it eats up his lungs and he feels like any breaths he draws in aren’t _enough,_ that they don’t have enough oxygen, that they can’t sustain him, can’t sustain the information that is running through his head and it all makes _sense,_ but—but he doesn’t _want_ it to make sense, doesn’t want to think about his dad as a corpse, doesn’t want to think about him _lifeless._ Lifeless, and _gone,_ and then Kakashi will be alone and he _has_ to tell him now, he _has_ to tell his dad—

And it’s all too much, it’s all too much, and— _oh, the room’s getting dark,_ Kakashi thinks, and he can hear the man in his head shouting at him to _calm down, Kakashi!_ The room dims further, and Kakashi thinks it may even be spinning. He thinks he hears a door open. _That’s just great. Pass out while someone enters the house._

  

“ . . . shi, Kakashi, you're fine, please open your eyes—”

Kakashi’s awareness level rises slowly—dangerous for a shinobi, but common in stressful situations—and the first thing he registers is a voice telling him to open his eyes. Are his eyes closed? Yes, Kakashi decides after a long moment—and some more concerned words from whoever is telling him to see—they are indeed closed. So he opens them, and he sees a yellow man in front of him. 

How strange . . . he’s never seen a yellow person before . . . but he _has_ seen someone with hair that was—

“Yellow,” he hears himself mutter. And isn’t that just embarrassing. _Yellow._ “What—Minato-sensei?”

“Oh, thank the gods,” Minato sighs. “What's your name, rank, and the last thing you remember?”

Kakashi sits up—and at least he’s not terribly shaky, just a bit sluggish—and speaks, his mind still foggy with the last little wisps of his unconsciousness. “Hatake Kakashi. Chūnin, and . . . I was on my couch. I don’t think I—never mind, I’m fine. I’m fine.”

And he’ll continue to say so until he can believe it himself.

Minato sighs again, visibly and audibly relieved, and then he lets himself fall onto the sofa to sit beside Kakashi. It really is a soft couch—it even manages to make Minato sink into it a fair bit. “Let me ask you, Kakashi, are you _actually_ a genius or are they just handing that title out to everyone nowadays?”

“ _Excuse me_?” Kakashi stares up at him, massively indignant.

Minato pauses for a second, and shakes his head. “Let me rephrase that— _are you stupid,_ or are you just a liar?”

Kakashi blinks wildly, unsure of how he should respond. But, of course, his mouth goes off and talks faster than his mind can follow. “What do you mean? I—liar? _What?"_  

Minato laughs, but it’s closer to a huff. “Kakashi, I found you _hyperventilating_ and then you _passed out_ on the couch, all while I was watching. Don’t tell me you’re _fine_ when you’re so obviously not. You were distracted during training, you were—well, you’ve been distracted for _days,_ really. It’s coming up on weeks, even. You don’t need to tell me what’s wrong, but you need to at least tell me that there’s _something_ wrong. I need to know that you aren’t lying to me. I need to know that you trust me, as both an ally and a mentor. But what’s even more important is that I need to know that you aren’t lying to _yourself._ That you’re acknowledging that there’s a problem. Can you do that?”

Kakashi thinks about what the man had said to him. Thinks about how his father could die because of one botched mission, because of people who refused to give him a _chance._ And Kakashi thinks—I won’t let that happen. I’m _never_ going to let that happen, he’s going to be there, _I’m_ going to be there for him.

 _Good kid,_ the man comments. 

Kakashi jumps in his seat.

“Kakashi?” Minato asks. He sounds—alarmed, and it confuses him until he realizes that he’d just leapt about a foot into the air for no visible reason. “Are you okay? Did I say too much? Oh, gods, I’m always doing things like—” 

“You’re fine,” Kakashi says firmly. “And—there was a problem. I wasn’t sure how to deal with it, or how to even—I wasn’t—something could have happened, and I didn’t want to _think_ that anything like that was even possible. So yeah. There was a problem. But it’s okay, really—I’m fixing it. Give me a few days, that’s all, and I’ll be fine.”

Minato bites his lip worriedly, and he finally seems to settle on a nod. “Okay. And I know I’ve said this before, but I feel like I should repeat it: I am _always_ here for you, Kakashi. I don’t care if you come barging into my apartment in the middle of the night because you had a nightmare, or if you need to stop training because you need to tell me something. I’ll always be ready to listen.” 

The man is sad, but it’s weird, because it’s a grief that’s tinged with—with _happiness,_ of all things, and Kakashi can’t make heads or tails of it.

 _He’s good for you,_ the man says. _You did well, telling him that._

Kakashi shouldn’t feel like smiling. He shouldn’t feel this happy for the praise, but—damnit, he _does,_ and he lets himself smile underneath the mask. Minato can probably see the slight curving of his smile, because he returns it with a smile of his own, and for just a second Kakashi is confused as to why Minato would be smiling, and then it hits him. Oh.

“I know, Minato-sensei,” Kakashi says. “Thanks for . . . all of this. And helping me calm down. I think I really needed that. And I think if I barged into your apartment, it would be _Kushina-san_ that I’d want to worry about.”

Minato laughs. “Most likely. And—it’s no problem at all. Now, do you feel up to training with me, or do you want us to stay inside for a while longer? The Hokage didn’t have any missions for me, so I’m free for the rest of the day. Or—” Minato clearly struggles with something here, but seems to work his way past whatever it is. “Or—I could. Leave. If you wanted. You know, if you just wanted some time alone, and you know what _yeah_ you probably do, so I’ll just _getoutnowsorrybye_ —”

“ _No,_ ” Kakashi says before Minato can take so much as a step in the direction of the door. “I never said I wanted you to _leave._ I mean—you can go if you want to. But I’d like—what I mean to say is—it wouldn’t be bad if you wanted to stay. For a little while.”

The man is laughing at him. No matter how hard he denies it, Kakashi _knows_ that the man is laughing at him. He can _hear_ it.

 _Shut up,_ he thinks venomously, although there’s no real heat behind his words. _I bet you’re worse at this than I am._

“That sounds like a good plan,” Minato says, bringing Kakashi back to attention. He’s blushing, and Kakashi can’t help but hold back a snort. Dear gods, he loves his sensei to _death_ (even though he will never say that out loud), but to say that Minato can be an airhead at times—well. That would be the very definition of an understatement. “I can make some tea, if you want . . . ?”

“Um. Yeah.” Kakashi debates on whether he has the nerve to ask for jasmine, because he doesn’t want Minato to laugh at him for liking such a light, flowery tea, but, well, Minato isn’t the type to laugh at anyone for something as small as their preference of tea. But—wait. “Shouldn’t I be the one making tea? It’s my house.”

“Kakashi, forgive me for what I’m about to say, but you look awful. Like you’d fall over if you stood up right now.” Minato pins him in place with a strong look. “You’re going to stay on the couch, and I’m going to get you a blanket because it is _so cold in here, Kakashi, why do you let it get so cold, why is it even cold at this time of year,_ and you’re going to tell me what kind of tea you like so that I can make it for you.”

“Jasmine,” Kakashi mutters, and glares at Minato mutinously. “My house isn’t _that_ cold.”

Minato heaves a _very_ long-suffering sigh. “You are shivering. Your hands are actually shaking.”

Kakashi glances down at his arms. And—oh. So they are.

Minato disappears down the hall, and before long he’s back with the fluffiest blanket from Kakashi’s bed. He drapes it haphazardly over Kakashi’s shoulders, but that’s okay, really, because Kakashi would have rearranged it anyway. Kakashi watches to make sure that Minato is safely into the kitchen before he stands up, somewhat shakily—he doesn’t fall over though, so take _that,_ Minato-sensei—and corrects the blanket so that it cocoons him. There’s space for his arms to stick out, though, and his legs are wrapped up securely. 

He feels like a snake. Kind of. The metaphor isn’t exact, but Kakashi will use it anyway because he likes snakes. 

“Do you like your tea strong?” Minato calls out to him from the kitchen. Kakashi can hear his teacher rummaging around in the cabinets. Something makes a loud crashing noise, and Kakashi winces. 

Kakashi shakes his head to himself, and shouts back, “Sure.”

After some more rummaging sounds, and also the sound of the tap running, Minato pokes his head back into the living room. “How much sugar? Or do you want honey instead?” Kakashi mumbles his response so quietly that Minato can’t hear him. “What was that, Kakashi?” he repeats, coming closer by a few steps so that Kakashi’s voice can reach him better. 

“I said—I said four spoonfuls,” Kakashi mutters, picking at the blanket. The _wonderfully_ soft, _wonderfully_ warm blanket that Kakashi wants to nuzzle his face against but can’t because that would be _very_ beneath him.

“Teaspoons?”

“No, just—normal spoons.”

Minato blinks. “Kakashi, you're aware that that isn't healthy, right? At all? Wouldn’t two be a better option?”

“You asked!” Kakashi accuses, feeling his face heat up.

Minato sighs, and grins, and agrees to add four spoons full of sugar. The look on his teacher’s face is caught somewhere between fond exasperation and joy at seeing Kakashi so open, and it’s actually kind of— 

 _Endearing?_ the man finishes for him, and Kakashi notes that Minato’s disappeared into the kitchen again.

 _No,_ Kakashi says—a little too quickly, probably, because before the man even responds he can feel the disbelief coming from him. _It’s just—nice, I guess. Seeing him so, um, relaxed. And stuff._

 _My cute little mini-me is making friends!_ the man says joyously. If Kakashi could see the man, he would probably be wiping away tears of happiness. Fake tears, but still tears. Kakashi frowns. _I’m so proud of you, little Kakashi!_

And because Kakashi is just _that_ irritated, he says his next words out loud—albeit under his breath. “I’m _not_ little, you senile old fool.” 

“What was that?” Minato says, just re-entering the room with a mug of tea in each hand.

“I didn’t say anything,” Kakashi says quickly. “Or—well—just. Mumbling under my breath, I guess? Nothing important, you don’t need to, uh, pay attention to that.”

 _That must be awfully sweet,_ the man observes, after Kakashi takes the cup from his teacher. _Do you_ **_really_ ** _need to add this much sugar?_

 _Yes,_ Kakashi says defensively. _It tastes better that way._

_Better? Or badder?_

_That isn’t even a_ **_word_** _,_ Kakashi hisses. _And anyway, if you drink your tea bitter, that’s because_ **_you’re_ ** _a bitter old man who probably can’t even taste what he’s drinking._

If Kakashi stirs his tea a little violently after that, Minato doesn’t see fit to comment on it. After he’s pulled his mask down and had a few mouthfuls of the tea (thank the _gods_ for Minato giving him one of his father’s large mugs), and warmth burns in his chest like hot molasses, the man finds that it is an appropriate time to attack Kakashi’s tea-drinking habits again.

 _You gonna have some tea with that sugar?_  

 _Leave me_ **_alone_** _,_ Kakashi says. _I’m just trying to have a sweet teacher-student bonding moment, like_ **_you_ ** _wanted me to do, and now you’re—you’re accusing me of putting too much sugar in my tea? This isn’t even relevant!_  

 _Sugar intake is always relevant,_ the man says gravely. _You will drink yourself into your grave._

 _Stop making me sound like—like Tsunade, or whatever. I’m not an alcoholic, I just like sugar in my tea._ Kakashi stares sullenly at his mug. _I bet you had diabetes._

The man splutters. _I—I did_ **_not_** _!_

_I bet you used to drink your tea with sugar all the time, huh? And then you got diabetes and now you want to ruin the fun of everyone else who likes even a little sugar on anything. How . . . sad._

The man staunchly ignores him. Kakashi takes that as a win and turns into his—perfectly flavored, thank you very much—tea.

Kakashi doesn’t realize that he’s finished the whole mug until he raises it to his face and nothing comes out of it. 

 _How sad,_ the man parrots back at him.

 _Shut up,_ _geezer._

“Kakashi, do you want me to take that to the kitchen? You look cozy. I’d hate to make you get up.” Kakashi nods, and Minato gets up to take his mug and spoon. He exits the living room, and a few moments later Kakashi hears him drop the spoon in the sink and turn on the water to wash their mugs. 

It is quiet, but it is not uncomfortable.

“I actually should get going now, though,” Minato tells him when he comes back from the kitchen. “I’ve probably stayed long enough. And you look sleepy.”

Kakashi begins to protest, but he gives it up when he realizes that he’s really too tired to form a coherent sentence. He settles for a nod, and disentangles himself from his blanket—and, oh, he is sad to see it go—to show Minato to the door. 

“You don’t need to, Kakashi,” Minato laughs. “I’ve _been_ here before.”

“‘S polite,” Kakashi returns. Oh, lovely—he’s slurring his words. Luckily, Minato doesn’t seem to notice—or if he does, he doesn’t show it. “And ‘m already up, so. C’mon, sensei.”

Minato obligingly allows Kakashi to lead him to the front door. Kakashi pulls it open, wincing at the sudden gust of unseasonably cold wind, and stands aside to let Minato out.

When his teacher pauses in the doorway, Kakashi tilts his head questioningly. “Minato-sensei?”

“You know,” he says, slowly. “Kakashi. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever actually seen your face. Okay, bye!”

“Wha—”

Kakashi has to close his eyes against the sudden swirl of wind and leaves, and when he opens them again, Minato is nowhere to be seen.

 _He’s always had a flair for the dramatic,_ the man notes quietly.

Kakashi isn’t listening, though, because—

 _Did—that actually happen? Has he really never seen my face before?_ Kakashi wonders, touching his cheek absently. 

 _Never before, mini-me,_ the man replies. _Never before._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drama! Romance! Action!
> 
> No, we're actually kidding, but this chapter is still pretty intense. No warnings for this one, but there is a mention of possible death, which shouldn't bother anyone, but, well. The warning is here just in case!
> 
> Anyway! If you enjoy this chapter, please leave a kudos and/or a comment!
> 
> Also, we thought this chapter was going to be delayed until TOMORROW because AO3 was down. BUT IT IS BACK AND WE ARE DELIVERING!

For the past two days, Kakashi has been restless. The man has kept up an almost endless stream of thoughts, all starting and ending with _father._ Sometimes it’s _dad._ But it always has to do with Sakumo, and sometimes Kakashi feels like he is going to fall apart and all the nervous energy will finally be able to rest.

So when the door cracks open and a figure tall enough that it can only be Kakashi’s father walks in, Kakashi doesn’t hesitate for even a second to barrel forward with his arms extended in anticipation for a hug, and slam into his father. Kakashi only comes up to Sakumo’s hip—but that’s okay, because he will be taller one day.

“Kakashi,” Sakumo says. “What’s brought all this on?”

“Missed you,” Kakashi mumbles. He hopes his father heard him, because his face is full of Sakumo’s dirty stinky mission clothes, and he really doesn’t want to have to say it twice because if he does then he thinks he’ll— 

That’s not important. 

“Well, I’m home now,” Sakumo says slowly. “I need to go do—my mission report.”

Kakashi bites his lip. The man is strangely silent inside of his head, and Kakashi almost wants to ask him for advice— _what should I say now? What should I do now? How will I get my dad to speak if I can’t even—_  

 _Ask him how it went,_ the man says, and Kakashi is suddenly surprised.

But he will do it.

“How’d the mission go, dad?”

The silence stretches on for so long that Kakashi has to pull himself away from his dad and look up into Sakumo’s dark, unreadable eyes. It doesn’t seem like his father is going to answer him at all, like Sakumo is just going to shoulder past Kakashi and leave the door open and just go to his bedroom slash office and do his report and leave Kakashi _alone_ until— 

“It was fine,” Sakumo tells him, at long last. “Please, Kakashi. I really have to go file my report. This is one of the most important missions I’ve ever taken, so please understand if I’m busy for a while. I might have to go into the administration building more often now, too, okay?”

And then Sakumo _does_ really push past Kakashi, although it’s gentler than a push because they barely even touch, and he closes the door too instead of leaving it hanging open, but what he _does_ do the same is go to his room and hole himself up in there, and Kakashi is left in the hall and he feels like there is a hole in his chest. 

It was _not_ fine. Kakashi _knows_ that the mission hadn’t gone well, because his father would have been so much more energetic than this, he wouldn’t have been so _quiet_ and _far away_ and Kakashi doesn’t want to admit that the mission might go wrong, doesn’t want to even think about it because all he wants to do is to curl up in a blanket on the couch and have Minato make tea for him again and _not think_ about his father because—

Everything is complicated.

And maybe, Kakashi admits, things are not all fine.

 _It’s important,_ the man has insisted, time and time again.

It’s not important.

But the man is relentless— _it is important._

 

Kakashi fails a D-rank.

He’s completed three already today, and he won’t admit this to himself but the reason for it is that he doesn’t want to have to face his father right now, even though he hasn’t in about a _week—_

Sakumo had finally come out of his room yesterday, looking messy and weary but _clean,_ looking tired and haggard but at least _alive—_ and then, Sakumo had gone to the Hokage tower to submit his report. He had gone off looking like he was going to his _death,_ and Kakashi is worried about what that means. 

So he throws himself into small missions, unimportant ones that he can complete within an hour or two, and he tries to forget about his father, and about the scroll that he had carried so solemnly down the street. 

 _Kid, it’s gonna be soon. People—civilians—are gonna know who you are. They’re going to talk, and they’re going to let you hear it,_ the man tells him. 

 _I don’t care,_ Kakashi snaps angrily. _I’ll just beat up anyone who makes fun of him._

 _You can’t possibly mean that,_ the man says, and it’s true. Kakashi doesn’t mean it, because going around and physically harming civilians and shinobi alike is such a bad idea that Kakashi can’t even _begin_ to approach it, but—it’s tempting. Kakashi, however, will just have to make do with his imagination.

So he walks up to the mission desk, and he ignores the look the chūnin behind the desk gives him—the man tells him, again, that it’s already starting, but Kakashi thinks that the chūnin is just wondering _why_ anyone with any amount of self respect would take so many D-ranks in one day—and he asks for his fourth one. 

He fails.

It is not his fault. It’s not even his father’s fault. But here’s the thing— _everyone else_ seems to think that it is.

The mission is to repair a civilian’s broken fence. He doesn’t need to paint it, which is good, and the supplies have already been bought for him, which is even better. When he arrives, he knocks on the door to meet the client and is greeted by the wrinkled face of an old man. 

“You’re the Hatake kid,” the owner of the house says immediately. “I’d recognize that hair anywhere. No. Go back to wherever they sent you from. I’m not paying you.” 

“What?” Kakashi asks, and if he’s honest, it comes out as a little on the incredulous side. “Why?”

“If what they’re saying is true, then you’ll turn out just like your father. Failing every single mission that comes your way. Tell the mission people I want someone _else._ Someone _competent,_ ” the client snarls, and slams the door in his face.

 _Harsh,_ the man notes. _Civilians never know when to stop, do they?_

 _Shut up,_ Kakashi says. It _stings,_ really, and he feels the beginning of frustrated tears prickling at his eyes. He is more hurt than he wants to admit, more hurt than he’s _prepared_ to admit, so he locks it all away in a little square box and tells it, _you can’t touch me._ When he goes back up to the mission desk, he spits out the words, “I failed,” throws the scroll onto the desk— _hard_ —and storms out of the building.

He isn’t angry for himself—he isn’t angry that he failed the D-rank. But he’s angry because of the _reason_ he failed it, and— _his father is not a failure._ His legs are shaking. Kakashi ignores it. How _dare_ they say that about Sakumo, how _dare_ they make that assumption from _one_ failed—

 _You should get back home,_ the man says. _You can let out your frustration there. Or you can sleep._

 _Sleep,_ Kakashi agrees. _I’m tired._  

He makes his way home as quickly as humanly possible, and he looks around inside the house for his father because Sakumo is the _only_ person he wants to see right now, the _only_ person who he trusts to actually have his back, the only person worth _talking_ to right now—and when he can’t find him, Kakashi falls onto the sofa and stares up at the ceiling. 

The house is messy, he notices. It shouldn’t be because messiness is detrimental to a healthy lifestyle, but nobody has _cared_ enough recently to keep it free of clutter. 

Kakashi wants to sleep forever, or never sleep again. He can’t tell which option sounds better.

He wishes his father was home.

 

When Kakashi wakes up, it's to a hand on his arm. He stares blankly at the face above him for a moment until the spark of recognition catches in his head. “Dad,” he mumbles, sitting up when his brain has been brought up to speed on real life.

Sakumo sighs. “What are you sleeping on the couch for?”

“What are you avoiding me for?” Kakashi responds thoughtlessly. 

Sakumo flinches, slightly, immediately shaking his head. “What makes you think I’m avoiding you? I'm—” 

Kakashi doesn't answer, instead talking over his father, even at the protests of the man in his head. “I failed a mission, dad.” Sakumo just about chokes at the words. “It was a D-rank, too. I was supposed to repair a fence. When I got there—well. The man took one look at me and said I’d only fail. Actually, first, he noticed that I'm a Hatake. Then he said to leave because I’d fail, said that he couldn’t accept my work and that he wouldn’t pay me.”

Sakumo is silent. 

“What actually happened, dad? On your mission?” Kakashi asks.

Sakumo laughs, not a trace of humor in the noise. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag, huh? I failed. Although, I suppose you probably have that figured out by now.”

“But _how?_  We _both_ know you wouldn't sabotage your own mission, and the way you've been—you think it was your fault. You and everyone else. You're not prone to making mistakes. This—did something happen? Did you have to make a decision between the mission and something else? And the something else was more important? Dad, please. I asked what happened. I didn't ask if you succeeded, that— _success doesn't mean anything if you don't come home_.” 

Sakumo looks surprised, and surprise is not an emotion that shows up often on his face. But Kakashi doesn’t _care_ about any of that. The only thing he cares about is what his father will say, and _that—_

“I failed because I kept my teammates alive,” Sakumo says, and that completely floors Kakashi. “The mission probably contained faulty info, because patrols were way heavier than they should have been. It was an infiltration mission, but it would have been a quick one—in and out in two weeks, tops, to find out what Kumo's council is saying about the treaty. But they _got_ us, Kakashi. My teammates fell first, and I could have taken them out and still gone on with it, but then I would have had to leave them there and they would have—” Sakumo’s voice stops, abruptly. “—died. We were supposed to be making a _treaty_ with Kumo, so I’m still not even sure why I would be sent on an _infiltration_ mission there, damnit. And we were given bad info on top of that. So of course Kumo has called off the treaty, and the war is going to drag on now and it’s all my—”

“It’s _not_ your fault,” Kakashi says viciously. “Dad, you just said you were given _bad_ information. You’re—you saved them even though you could have let them die, and it’s not even _your_ fault that you were sent! Anyone else could have taken this mission—”

“No,” Sakumo says. “I was requested for. They trusted _me_ with this mission. I failed, and now it seems like the fighting will never end.”

 _Requested?_ the man asks, and Kakashi feels a quiet sort of puzzlement coming from the man until something _clicks_ , and then the man is _furious,_ coldly furious and saying things for Kakashi to repeat out loud.

“ _Requested_ you? Dad—you were _set up for failure._ Someone must have—wanted this to happen. Someone must have been smart enough to see that everyone would hate you once they noticed—and anyway, any half-competent chūnin could figure this out— _this isn’t your fault, Dad._ Whoever came up with this mission _made_ it so that you wouldn’t have abandoned your comrades, must have known you well enough to know that, and I—you’re not the one to blame here. And really? An infiltration mission to the Kumogakure that we're supposed to make a _treaty_ with? How dumb is the asshole who gave you this mission? I'd have them  _fired—_  You’re a _hero,_ dad, for saving them even though—you probably knew something was wrong, too. You _saved_ them anyway and I—” Kakashi swallows past the lump in his throat. “—couldn’t have asked for a better father.”

And suddenly, just like that, Sakumo is near _sobbing_ , pulling Kakashi in for a hug, stuttering about how weird Kakashi is and _how did you even come to that conclusion, Kakashi, that doesn't even make **sense,** _ and  _that's what I thought too but nobody would._

Kakashi hasn't been this happy since he was a small child. The other day with Minato—even _that_ pales in comparison to this exact moment.

This moment, in which his his father is safe, in which his father is crying, in which his father is holding him and telling him how much he loves him and how _proud_ of Kakashi he is and Kakashi thinks that it should be the other way around, that it should be _him_ crying and saying he’s proud of his dad, and then he feels a wetness on his own cheeks and realizes, oh. I’m crying, too. 

Kakashi doesn't think he’ll forget this day, and the man is crying almost as much as his dad.

The man is happy and crying and telling Kakashi, _Good kid, you did good, what a good kid, tell dad we love him—_

Kakashi tells dad that he loves him. 

Sakumo hugs him tighter and ruffles his hair.

(Kakashi can't stop smiling.) 

 

Kakashi feels—uncomfortable, being in town.

Everyone can go fuck themselves, for all he gives a damn, because the person they're hating on is his _dad_ and he—he honestly _wouldn't care_ if they were talking about him, no, but his _dad_?

They are talking about his _dad_ like this, and Kakashi sees red just about whenever he has to interact with anyone.

Especially bratty genin who think they're superior to him just because they're older, and who don't know  _jack shit_ about  _anything that happened on the mission._

The man snorts. _That alone makes you a much better person than I was at your age. I would’ve been pissed either way._

Kakashi hums agreeably, because the man is the only person besides his father who _hasn’t_ managed to piss him off, and continues his walk to training ground eleven.

He’s probably late for his meeting with sensei, but he can’t bring himself to care, because his father had been in a chatty mood this morning, and Kakashi couldn't help but to humor him. 

He arrives twenty minutes late to his training session with Minato.

“Is this a habit I see forming, Kakashi?” Minato teases.

Kakashi crinkles his nose. “No. I just—lost track of time.” Here, Kakashi smiles under his mask. “Dad was showing me this kind of shuriken launcher that can only be used by shinobi who have the right training. I wanted to learn, because it looks really cool, but Dad said that I’m a few years too early for something of that size. It’s a _big_ contraption.”

Minato freezes momentarily at the mention of Sakumo, but smiles all the same. “Speaking of your father, how is he doing as of late? I know that last mission was a hard one . . . It’s good that they all came out alive and mostly well.”

“He’s good. The rumors get to him sometimes, but not as much since we talked about the mission. I’m really—really proud of him. For getting past it. If he’d continued, there still would have been people talking. Because then he wouldn’t have been able to save his teammates but instead continued a mission he couldn't finish . . . people talk too much. I don't think they even know _how_ to shut their mouths. "

Minato’s tentative smile becomes a full blown grin, “Now, now, Kakashi, no need to be rude. That's only giving them more reason to come after you. Do you think Sakumo’s considered a therapist? I'm sure he must be stressed. It's always good to seek out help after a tough mission.”

Kakashi blinks, then, because there's a spark of interest from the man, a spark of realization. “I don't know if he's considered one, but he certainly hasn't been looking. Do you think—should I look for someone for him?”

Minato hums, “Sure. Might consider talking to him first, but I don't see why not. I could help—oh, actually, I do have something to talk to him about, maybe you can look while I talk to him about it.”

Kakashi nods eagerly.

“Alright! Enough talk, time to train!”

  

Kakashi hates going to the information desk in the administration building because it is _absurdly_ tall. There are also no chairs for him to pull up and stand on, so he finds himself cursing his height for the fifth time today as he tries to get the attention of a chūnin who is clearly ignoring him just to be a jerk about it.

Kakashi knocks on the side of the desk again.

“Hey, Masaru, did you hear something just now?” The chūnin says.

“Nope,” Masaru replies, looking around exaggeratedly. “Although, there might have been a gust of wind blowing around just now . . . ”

Kakashi loses his patience. “There aren’t even any _windows_ in here,” he says angrily. “We are in the innermost circle of the building!”

“You’re the White Fang’s kid, aren’t you? Heard about the bad mission info. Sucks that it happened to him,” Masaru says, and jabs a thumb at the other chūnin. “Komoro will help you out." 

Kakashi is glad that at least the shinobi have an ounce of common sense.

Komoro smiles down at him. “Okay, little guy, what do you need?”

Kakashi can’t help it. “I’m not _little,_ ” he intones murderously, and then, still feeling quite homicidal, he continues with, “I need a list of addresses for therapists who are able to handle shinobi. Do you have one?”

Komoro puts up a finger, and turns around to sift through some loosely-bound books. Eventually, he rips a sheet of paper out of one of them. Kakashi winces. “Here you go,” Komoro says, handing it to Kakashi, who takes it quickly.  “And don’t worry about the book. I have a photocopy of the list . . . somewhere around here.”

Masaru sighs exaggeratedly. “Komoro, I swear to every god in heaven and hell, if you’ve lost it _again—_ ”

“Don’t worry, babe _,_ ” Komoro grins. “It’s not lost. Just misplaced." 

Masaru growls. Honest to the gods _growls._ Kakashi doesn’t even try to hide his amused smirk, because they won’t be able to see it anyway. “ _Don’t_ call me babe, I _hate_ that nickname, I will _strangle_ you for this—” 

Komoro wiggles his eyebrows. " _Strangle?_ Really? I didn't know you were into th—"

Masaru lunges. "You  _shithead—"_

The rest of their bickering is cut off when Kakashi closes the door behind himself, clicking his tongue disgustedly.

 _Teenagers,_  the man explains.  _My own genin team was like that before they finally got—_

 _I don't need to hear that,_ Kakashi says quickly. 

He looks down at the list in his hand, memorizes the first address, and carefully tucks the piece of paper into one of his thigh pouches so that he doesn’t drop it. He stops, briefly, to glance at a map, and then he’s on his way to a large building in one of Konoha’s wealthier districts. 

The therapist that Kakashi is a retired shinobi who goes simply by Shigeri. She asks him some questions, and then he clarifies that he’s not here for himself, at which point she sees fit to give him a tour of the place. He exits the building half an hour later, slightly dazed and just a little lost from trying to navigate through all those cramped and winding corridors. Kakashi had felt trapped. 

He doesn’t think that his father will particularly enjoy that building, so he looks at the list again and heads in the direction of the shinobi hospital, which is the closest address relative to where he is right now.

He finds Gushiken Ichirō, a civilian trained in shinobi therapy practices, on the fourth floor of the hospital and immediately takes an immense liking to him. He shares a little about his father, finds that Gushiken is unconcerned with any rumors that have been circulating, and books an appointment for a week from today.

Once he’s back outside of the hospital, he tucks the appointment papers into a pocket on his chūnin flak jacket and makes his way back home. Just as he’s about to raise his hand to knock, because _stupid Kakashi, forgetting to take his house key with him,_ Sakumo opens the door.

“Hey, Kakashi,” he says. “Minato just left. Were you hoping to catch him?”

Kakashi shakes his head, reaches an arm into his left-most pocket, and silently holds out the papers for his father to take. 

“Appointment for therapy, huh?" Sakumo asks, leafing through the small bundle. "Minato told me you would be looking around, but I didn’t expect you to find someone so soon.” 

“I liked him,” is Kakashi’s only excuse. “You should go, even if it’s only once. I think he would be good for you.”

“Okay,” Sakumo promises. “I’ll go, for you. But you really couldn’t have picked a better time for this? _Kakashi,_ the meeting is scheduled for seven in the morning on a _Saturday_.”

Kakashi smiles. “Better get up early then. Shinobi don’t sleep in.”

Sakumo ruffles Kakashi’s hair. 

Kakashi is happy.

 

 _Little Kakashi, please, you're going to die from sugar overdose,_ the man complains as Kakashi stirs his fourth spoonful of sugar into his tea.

Kakashi crinkles his eyes amusedly. _You're no fun._

 _Yes, waiter, I'd like a cup of sweet tea. Oh, but hold the tea, please. I just want the sugar,_ the man mocks in a high-pitched tone.

_You’re mean. It's not like I put so much sugar in it that the tea’s sickening. Even dad can stand drinking it, and he prefers his tea with just a spoon of honey._

The man laughs.

 _Anyway,_ Kakashi starts. _Dad seems really happy, lately, doesn't he? Even if he’s complaining about having to get up tomorrow . . ._

 _Yeah. It’s because he's planning on sending you off to live with the wolf summons’ clans. He’ll never have to deal with you anymore, you little brat,_ the man teases.

Despite hearing the obvious humor in the man's voice, Kakashi feels _offended._

“That's just _mean_ , and not even _true_ ,” he grumbles out loud. Sakumo hasn’t used the wolf contract in _forever,_ which is lame because wolves are really, really cool, and Kakashi wants to see them more often so it wouldn’t even be a _bad_ thing anyways. Take _that,_ old geezer. 

Kakashi crosses his arms and _hmph_ s at the man.

“Kakashi? What are you doing up still?”

 _Ah, you know, he probably thinks you're going crazy._  

 _Shut up,_ Kakashi says. Telling the man to shut up is beginning to become a habit. 

He turns to his father and prepares to give his most sheepish smile. Sakumo is standing in the doorway.

“Um. Making tea,” he says guiltily.

Sakumo sighs heavily. “ _Kakashi_ , how many times have I told you not to have sugar before bed? Hurry up and finish drinking your tea so you can get some sleep.” He pauses, and then, with a rather suspicious look on his face, says, “I hope that’s not caffeinated.” 

“It’s not,” Kakashi lies. Sakumo squints at him, and Kakashi rushes to say, “Okay, goodnight dad. Remember, tomorrow is Saturday, so make sure you get up early.”

“I know. Goodnight, Kakashi.”

Kakashi turns back to his tea.

He expects the man to snark at him for his sugar intake, but it isn’t until his cup is empty that the man speaks up again.

_Head to the living room._

“Huh? Why?" 

_Just go. Start meditating, and I'll tell you what to do when you're ready._

Kakashi sits on the couch as instructed and begins meditation.

 

“Yo,” the man says, and it’s louder than Kakashi has ever heard from him before. Kakashi’s eyes are closed, he can tell that much, and he’s a little hesitant to open them. But he does open them, eventually, and then he wants to close them again because _that is him and there can’t be two of him_ and by seeing this he _has_ to accept this now.

He closes his eyes again.

“Open your eyes,” the man says. “You look silly.”

Kakashi wants to curl up in a blanket. With tea, preferably, because the man—the Kakashi?—will complain about it, and if it bothers the man then it makes Kakashi happy.

“So do I have to call you Big Kakashi now?” Kakashi asks.

“Hmm. Well . . . I don’t know how to put this, but . . . yes.”

Kakashi sighs. He doesn’t think he has the mental capacity to say anything right now. For the gods’ sakes. The man looks like him, right down to the mask and the hair and the posture and the _everything_ and Kakashi feels like his head is going to explode.

The man—Big Kakashi—pokes Kakashi in the side of his head. “Hey. Hey, I called you here for a reason. We need to get stuff done.” 

“What reason?” Kakashi asks. 

Big Kakashi smiles at him.

“ _What reason?_ ” Kakashi repeats. “I—you’re a time traveler, then? That’s the only thing that fits. And I’m me. So you were me, and if I know myself at all then I know you wouldn’t have just come back for nothing. Something must have gone really wrong.” Kakashi doesn’t even understand what _he’s_ saying, for the most part, but it doesn’t deter him. “So tell me.”

Big Kakashi laughs sheepishly. “Well . . . being Hokage is hard, mini-me. Can’t an old man get a day off?”

“I don’t believe that for even a second,” Kakashi says, and then, incredulously, “ _We_ were _Hokage?_ ”

“We were.” Big Kakashi pauses, and tilts his head to the side. “Now. Let’s go over all the reasons why we were shit at it, and why we need to fix it so that it doesn’t happen again. Really, almost everything went wrong. A shame. I wonder how much of it was my fault . . . " 

Big Kakashi trails off thoughtfully, head resting in his hands. It’s fake—the cheer is, that much he can tell—but it’s _convincing,_ and for a second Kakashi is tempted to laugh, until he remembers the situation all over again and has to fight back the urge to groan.

Kakashi feels the beginning of a headache coming on.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> No warnings, _but_ we want to remind you guys that this is _self indulgence_ and some things that are coming up may not be well received. This is, however, _our_ fic and we don't plan things according to what anyone else wants. It's called _self_ indulgence for a reason.
> 
> Also!! If you read _egg tooth_ , our other fic, you might wonder why that is on hiatus and this is not. This is because we already have wywhaiyh finished, and are already working on the next fics in the series and all that.
> 
> Anyway. Here is chapter 5, we hope you guys enjoy!!

Kakashi rubs his temples with a long, drawn-out sigh. It’s probably the tenth time he’s sighed like this. It won’t be the last. _What an awful headache this is,_ he thinks, as he reaches for sugar to add to his tea, because fuck you, he can have sugar while he’s in his mind-place-thing. Whatever it is.

In any case, this action is met with an almighty groan from Big Kakashi. “You have a headache! Don't add sugar!”

“But tea is awful without sugar! What else am I supposed to do?” Kakashi drops the bag of sugar back on its shelf. And it’s _weird,_ really, because he shouldn’t even be able to _get_ a headache—he’s in his own damn mind—so sugar shouldn’t make it worse. But . . . he really doesn’t want to test that hypothesis right now. He just wants his _tea._

The man—Big Kakashi—sighs. “Honey, obviously. Why was I such an idiot back when I was you?”

Kakashi cringes. “You were never me. I stopped being the past you the moment you took over to talk to dad,” he mumbles, opening a different cabinet to get at the container of honey. He pours a generous amount of honey into his mug. “Anyway, honey is sweet, too. Probably got _tons_ of sugar.” 

Big Kakashi hums thoughtfully. “Hmm . . . you might have a point there. Anyway, back to the traumatic incidents of my childhood. When I was fifteen—”

Kakashi adds a bunch of honey to his cup of tea. “Yeah, yeah. Wait for me to finish my tea or I’ll make you repeat everything.”

“You _wouldn’t._ ” Big Kakashi sounds absolutely horrified.

“Try me, then,” Kakashi says. He _needs_ to make his tea uninterrupted. Big Kakashi remains silent and waits for him to be done with his tea. “Because I will do it. I’ll even plug my ears and shout if that’s what it takes.” 

Big Kakashi whines at him. Kakashi grimaces.

_What an awful headache this is._

 

“What the _hell_ is with those eye bags, Kakashi? Did you even sleep at all? I told you to get to bed as soon as you finished your tea.” It’s the first thing Sakumo says to Kakashi in the morning. It’s only six thirty in the morning, so Sakumo won’t be late for his therapy. Kakashi had slept on the couch, again, and his fluffy blankets are everywhere but on his person. Sakumo takes this all in, and shakes his head, seeming to resign himself to the fact that the couch is Kakashi’s new home.

Kakashi crinkles his nose. “I tried.” _That's a lie._ “I couldn't sleep, so I meditated instead.” _There's the truth. Good job, little Kakashi._ “It didn't help much.” _Even better._  

 _Shut up,_ Kakashi snaps. _I’m trying to have a conversation._

Sakumo sighs. “You know, everyone always told me kids were more stressful than babies. I never used to believe them. But the evidence is right here, before my very eyes. When did you get so sassy?” 

Kakashi stares his father straight in the eyes. “Now, that's just _rude_. I am _not_ stressful. _You're_ stressful. And I’m not sassy.”

 _Oh, gods,_ Kakashi thinks, immediately after it comes out of his mouth, _my speech is being impaired by the endless hours of you blabbering nonstop. It’s—influencing me. Infecting me, more like._  

Big Kakashi laughs. _I take no offense to that. Everyone should be more like me!_

Sakumo grins and ruffles Kakashi’s hair, ignoring the growl the action inspires. And really, what has gotten _into_ Kakashi today? Is it the lack of sleep? “Now, that's just childish. There we go,” Sakumo says, and chuckles. “I always knew my son was capable of acting his age! If only he was always so immature and carefree!”

“I _always_ act my age. Sometimes. Mostly.” Kakashi crosses his arms. “I am the _perfect_ eight-year-old.”

Sakumo sighs as he pulls Kakashi in for a one-sided hug. As in, Sakumo is in such a position that Kakashi is physically incapable of hugging back, and it _irritates_ him to hell and back. “Sure you are. You act more like a moody teenager than an eight-year-old child, though.”

“ _What_. I'm not moody!” Kakashi defends. 

“You are.”

 _You really are,_ Big Kakashi agrees. _So moody. Always drowning yourself in sugar. It’s a shame, really._

“You suck,” Kakashi says, not sure if he means his dad or Big Kakashi or both. Probably both.

Sakumo and Big Kakashi laugh at the same time, and Kakashi has to hold back another sigh.

 _Definitely_ both.

 

“And what makes you think I’ll be able to fix something like _that_?” Kakashi asks, skeptical.

“Mmm, we could always kill the sandaime and frame Danzō. Now _there’s_ a plan I can get behind. What do you say, mini-me?”

“ _What_? Where do you get all these ideas? ‘Cause they sure aren't coming from your _brain_. And they aren't even anything to do with that mission.”

Big Kakashi laughs. “No, no, you're right. A kid like you could never pull that off.” 

There once was a time when Kakashi _didn't_ want people to think he was capable of killing a Kage and framing a council member. But that was long ago, lost in the realm of five-minutes-past. It is long gone, past the point of no return, and it has disappeared to—to—wherever Kakashi’s socks go when he washes clothes. 

Long story short—it’s gone and is never coming back.

“I could!” he protests mulishly.

“Oh? How many people have you killed? How many infiltration missions have you been on? How many Kage-level shinobi have you fought? It’s probably up in the thousands by now, huh?” Big Kakashi teases.

“At least a few people, I think. And, um, I haven't yet. Been on infiltration missions. And _stop teasing me._ How do you expect an eight-year-old to go and—oh."

“Exactly.” 

Kakashi wrinkles his nose in distaste. Big Kakashi ignores him. “Anyway, after that disaster of a fight, we went on to bury Zabuza and his apprentice. I think we actually omitted their appearances from the reports, or we downsized it, because otherwise, the response should've been greater. Huh. Haven’t thought about that in a while, but really. One of Kiri’s most famous missing-nin _and_ one of the Seven Swordsmen to boot shows up, and no one makes a fuss? Maybe it’s because we killed him? In any case, after a few more weeks of D-ranks, the Chūnin Exams came up, and that's where things started to get _really_ messy.”

“Messy?” 

“As in, my genin get thrashed by their comrades, an S-rank missing-nin, and most everyone falls victim to a sleep-inducing genjutsu. After that another one deserts the village and we—meaning, a bunch of the chūnin hopefuls and no jōnin—fail to retrieve them because nobody even stood a chance against four low jōnin-level shinobi. Fun times, all in all.” 

Kakashi stares blankly at Big Kakashi. “So you entered them in the _Chūnin Exams,_ which implies that they are _chūnin level,_ or close, and yet they were completely flattened by four shinobi who were probably recent jōnin. And _you_ didn’t try to get your genin back. And on top of that they were completely humiliated by their genin comrades. Did you not train them at _all?”_  

Big Kakashi bristles. But it’s _too_ defensive, and that tells Kakashi that he’s about to receive a bullshit response. “I did! I taught them the tree climbing technique during the Wave mission!”

“What the—so half of this, or maybe even more was caused purely by their incompetence at all of their teachers’ hands, huh? Alright, when they're my genin—and I’ll make _sure_ that they’re mine, as soon as you _tell me their names, damn you—_ I’ll train them properly. Tell me about the Chūnin Exams in detail this time, because that was vague as all-get-out _._ ” 

Big Kakashi tells him about the Chūnin Exams, and—Kakashi thinks he needs another mug of tea, and he’s going to put _sugar_ in it, because _ugh._ To _hell_ with his headache. And, he decides, he is also going to need his blanket, or maybe three or four of them, because he has _so much to think about,_ it’s not even _funny._

Kakashi sighs and goes back to arguing with Big Kakashi.

  

At some point, Kakashi stops meditating and goes into the kitchen to make a _real_ mug of tea, which quickly turns into two, and three, and four, and they’re all overloaded with sugar, so by the time Minato comes over, Kakashi is a buzzing, hyperactive _mess_ and he is more than eager to go out and pulverize some wooden dummies. 

“I had four mugs of tea,” Kakashi says. He’s shifting from foot to foot, and when Minato closes the door behind him, and it makes a loud _thump,_ Kakashi jumps about a meter into the air. “I feel good. Weird good.”

“You’re going to have one heck of a crash once all this sugar gets out of your system,” Minato informs him. His lips are twitching upwards, though, so he’s amused at the very least.

“Don’t remind me,” Kakashi pleads. “Let’s go train. I need to beat things up.”

“I can’t believe how quickly you can go from—from _moody teenager_ to _cute child._ It seems almost wrong,” Minato confesses. “Maybe you should never have any sweets ever again, so I don’t have to see this. It contrasts with my mental image of you.”

“I will _never_ give up sugar,” Kakashi says. 

Minato ruffles Kakashi’s hair. “I was just teasing. Come on, you hyperactive little monster. We’ll just practice some things for today, and if it goes well, I’ve got a B-rank jutsu scroll that you can learn.” Sensei pauses, and then adds, “But don’t you even _think_ about trying it when I’m not there. You might be a chūnin but you’re still a kid.”

“Yes, Minato-sensei.”

_You’re going to try it anyway, right?_

_Shut up,_ Kakashi snaps. _I’m actually going to_ **_listen_ ** _to him because I_ **_value_ ** _what he has to say._  

 _You’re no fun,_ Big Kakashi complains.

They get to training ground eight, and Minato watches while he takes out some of his nervous energy onto the dummies. He doesn’t actually pulverize them, though, because if he did then he or Minato would have to pay for them—and dummies are surprisingly expensive, if only because there is just one person who manufactures and sells them.

After a while, Minato steps in. “That’s enough of that, I think. You won’t gain any more skill if you always hit a still target. I’ve got some other chūnin who would be happy to spar with you." 

“Okay,” Kakashi says agreeably. He feels _so much calmer_ now, and it’s weird.

 _You have about an hour until you crash,_ Big Kakashi says suddenly. _You’re going to wanna get a blanket._

 _How do you know that?_ Kakashi asks.

_Just a guess._

_So you don’t actually know for sure._

_Nope,_ Big Kakashi says, all too cheerfully.

Minato and Kakashi head over to training ground seven, where three or four chūnin are sparring. 

“They’re usually on gate duty,” Minato explains, “but they had the day off and I saw them there so I went, hey, why not ask them to train with you?”

They spar. Kakashi is good, but he’s young and doesn’t have the size advantage that these people do, so he has to make up for it in speed and wit. He is not ashamed to admit that he uses underhanded tactics to win a few spars, because shinobi are _shinobi_ and if they can’t use underhanded tactics then _what even is the point—_

Whatever it is, he’s thoroughly exhausted by the time he’s done with all of it.

“I feel like death,” Kakashi complains to Minato when the hour is up.

“It’s the sugar crash,” Minato says, and then, “My poor student, gone before his time.”

“I’m not actually dead, you know.”

“Imagine, me having to bury a student. I thought it would never happen, but here I am,” Minato laments. “Death from sugar intake. How . . . sad.”

“I hate you,” Kakashi says.

“And now the sugar’s making you lie,” Minato says. “Anyway. Here you go. B-rank lightning jutsu, allows you to electrify water without killing yourself. Very useful, but can burn your chakra coils if done wrong. We’ll practice this next time we meet—you know Uchiha Mikoto, right? She has a lightning affinity. I’ve already asked her to come help. Two days from now, training ground twenty, ten in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“I think you need to go to bed, Kakashi. I know it’s still light out, but you look like you need some sleep. Did—did you sleep last night?” Minato asks.

Kakashi laughs nervously.

 _Busted,_ Big Kakashi says.

“Why do you _do_ this?” Minato asks. “Growing children _need_ their rest! Do you want to be short forever?”

Kakashi _hmph_ s.

They’re at Kakashi’s door now—and he actually remembered to bring his key—so before he closes it in his teacher’s face, Kakashi sticks his tongue out at him. Minato gives him an extremely unimpressed look through the glass. Kakashi crosses his arms and waits. 

Minato just laughs at him. It’s not a mean laugh, but Kakashi feels offended anyway.

 _You should keep him,_ Big Kakashi says, after Minato has walked away to wherever he goes when he’s not teaching Kakashi. 

 _He’s my TEACHER,_ Kakashi says. _We can’t keep him. He’s an actual adult, not some—absurdly happy dog, or whatever you seem to think he is._

 _You wanna bet? Come on, little Kakashi, I bet we could get him to move in with us and everything, he can make sure Dad goes to therapy. And Minato’s happier—more open, readier to joke around—with you when you are you than he was when I was you. Well, I’m still you, but when I was the you version of—_  

 _For the gods’ sakes, shut up,_ Kakashi says exasperatedly. _We_ **_really_ ** _can’t keep him._

 _Can’t we?_ Big Kakashi asks. **_Can’t_ ** _we?_

Kakashi huffs, and then grimaces because all that sugar has made his breath bad. _No. And shut up so I can brush my teeth._

So he does brush his teeth, even though the only toothpaste that’s there is from the brand he _really hates,_ but he suffers through it anyway, and then he heads toward the couch, but not before stopping in front of his bedroom. 

His clothes _are_ a bit uncomfortable.

 _Do it,_ Big Kakashi says. He sounds _far_ too excited to be innocent, and Kakashi suspects that it’s because he will use this against him ‘til kingdom come. 

But—Kakashi is too tired to care, so he puts on the ugly sky-patterned pajamas that Minato had gotten him and he gathers up the fluffiest blankets from his bed and he throws them all onto the couch, along with a few choice pillows.

And he glances down at his pajamas. They’re soft. They’re comfortable, and warm, and easy to wear and that’s all well and good, but they’re so— _not him._  

Blue. _Ugh._ It must be Minato’s favorite color, or something, because many things in Minato’s apartment are that color, including but not limited to: the walls; the dinner plates, although the blue on those is just the trim; the bedding; the fucking _sofa;_ and the curtains in the living room.

 _They were a gift from your precious sensei,_ Big Kakashi says. Kakashi knows the man is grinning that stupid grin of his (is _Kakashi_ going to look like that in the future?). _Do you want to dishonor him by not wearing them?_

(“Kakashi,” Minato had said, horrified. “You _sleep_ in your _flak jacket?_ ”

“Yeah,” Kakashi had grumbled. He hadn’t really seen anything _wrong_ with it, but Minato had acted as though Kakashi had killed his entire clan or something. “Why? Is that bad?”

“ _Yes,_ it’s bad. You need to sleep in real pajamas. _Real pajamas._ Not day clothes.”

“Why?”

“Because. You just have to,” Minato had said, and that had been that, and the next day Kakashi had found a paper package with the hideous pajamas inside of it.)

 _It wouldn’t be dishonoring,_ Kakashi complains. _I think_ **_he’s_ ** _disonoring_ **_me_ ** _by giving me these pajamas._ And then, out loud, because he’s ninety percent sure that Sakumo isn’t home, he says, “Senile old man.”

 _Whatever you say, mini-me._ Big Kakashi seems to be waiting for something, and when Kakashi finally snaps at him to spit it out, he says, _Those pajamas are just so adorable on you. Oh, gods, I was such a cute kid. I love me so much._

“I hate you,” Kakashi says under his breath.

He stomps grumpily over to the couch, piles his blankets on top of him, and closes his eyes.

 _Adorable,_ Big Kakashi repeats. _Adooooorable._

Kakashi ignores him. Hopefully his dad will be back from his shopping trip soon—they’ve been running low on weapons, and Sakumo had gone out to replenish nearly their whole supply. Kakashi will probably have to take a few extra D-ranks—or possibly a C-rank—to pay for his share, but that’s fine by him.

The last thought he clearly remembers having before he falls asleep is whether he should buy his next tea loose-leaf or in bags.

  

Kakashi is shaken awake by his father the next morning. The man has his mission gear strewn all over the place. Kakashi stretches, and accidentally kicks a pile of sealing scrolls onto the floor.

 _Whoops,_ Big Kakashi says, completely without remorse. 

“Mm? ‘Nother mission already?” Kakashi slurs sleepily.

Sakumo nods, and sighs. “Looks like my failed mission has finally caught up to us. Most of us jōnin are being called out for battle—it's still minor at this point, but you know how quickly things escalate. I need you to help me pack.” Kakashi nods. Sakumo continues, “I need a pack for a three to six week mission with a high chance of combat, and I’m leaving within an hour.”

“Okay. You gather your weapons and clothes, I can get first-aid and food.”

Sakumo sighs, and this time it’s relieved rather than stressed. “Thanks. You're a lifesaver, Kakashi.”

Kakashi throws the blankets off of himself and stumbles into the kitchen, blinking the sleep out of his eyes along the way. He pulls open the drawers where the dried food is kept, and takes out twelve ten-packs of ration bars, three bags of beef jerky, a large bag of—dried apple slices? That sounds _awful—_ and four cans of mixed nuts. He pauses, and then picks out a bag of rice. He drags all of it over to the scrolls he’d knocked down onto the floor and takes one out. He seals all of the food into the scroll, picks up a sticker, and writes “food” on it. He puts the sticker onto the scroll’s container and carefully slides the scroll in.

“Catch,” he says to Sakumo, and tosses the scroll at him. His father smiles at him briefly before returning to his weapons.

“Don’t forget honing oil,” Kakashi reminds him. 

“Don’t worry about that. I’m not losing my memory yet,” Sakumo says, and picks up his bottles of honing oil to show Kakashi. “And I have my whetstones.”

“Good,” Kakashi says, and leaves his father in the living room while he goes down the hall to the storage room. He opens a box of gauze and a box of bandages and takes out a large package of each. He gets out some stitching materials and rubbing alcohol, some nitrile gloves, cotton balls, two pairs of tweezers, and a bunch of other stuff that he’s seen his father take on missions. 

“You forgot blood replenishing pills,” Sakumo comments. “And chakra pills. Are we out?”

“No, I just didn’t think. Sorry.” 

Kakashi comes back with the proper materials, and when Sakumo is done checking everything over, he takes a scroll, seals everything into it, and sticks a label reading “med-pack” onto it. 

“Now do that all over again, and pack a little extra of everything into the scrolls. Use the medium-sized ones this time.” 

 _Shinobi really_ **_are_ ** _notorious for overpacking, aren’t they. Well. I wouldn’t know. I always under-packed._

 _Shut up,_ Kakashi says. He is tired. He wants to go back to sleep. But now he must pack an extra of everything, because he is a worrywart and Sakumo is a worrywart and it is almost _certain_ that the supplies will run low anyway, even if he’s packed enough for an entire squad.

“Okay,” Kakashi says wearily. “I’ll . . . go do that. Dad.”

Sakumo laughs. “I know, I know. It’s a lot to ask. I’ll help you if I get done before you do." 

“No need,” Kakashi responds, already heading toward the kitchen with scroll and sticker in hand. He stops to pick up a container, and then he’s packing up fifteen ten-packs of ration bars—and then they’re out of ration bars, which means that Kakashi will have to go shopping today—and the rest of it. But instead of apple slices, he throws in some miso soup powder that he finds in a different cabinet, and he also pulls out some basic spices—salt, pepper. Sugar.

He seals that into the scroll, puts the labeled sticker onto it, and tosses it onto the pile before heading back to the storage cabinet. He pulls out a ton of supplies, listening to Big Kakashi’s directions on what to get and how much and _you should get some extra of that—wait, no—wait yeah,_ and after about ten minutes of sitting there, being frustrated, telling Big Kakashi to shut up, and then actually gathering some supplies and heading out to go seal everything up.

Thank the gods for sealing scrolls.

As soon as Kakashi is finished, he collapses on the couch. “I’m so _tired,_ ” he groans.

“You slept all through the afternoon and tonight.” Sakumo pauses from where he’s folding up his mission clothes and turns to Kakashi. “What’s up? You never sleep this much.”

“Just—haven’t been getting as much sleep lately, you know,” he says. “Don’t worry about it. You have your mission to complete, okay?”

Sakumo nods, saying, “It’s hard not to worry about my only child. But if you say you’re fine, I’ll trust you.”

“Thanks.”

Someone knocks on the door.

“Oh—that’s Minato,” Sakumo says. “Could you get that? He’s probably here with Kushina to help me with last-minute inventory. Minato’s going with me, and Kushina’s going to a different area in a few days, after we set up the transport seals we need."

Kakashi is happy that Minato is here. But he is absolutely terrified of Kushina. “Do I _have_ to?” he asks. “I can just pretend I’m sleeping and—” 

“Get the door,” Sakumo says. He sounds exhausted. Kakashi _feels_ exhausted. 

He gets the door.

“Hi, Minato-sensei . . . Hi, Kushina-san.” 

“Hi, Kakashi-chan.” Kushina brushes past him, giving him a sharp grin on her way into the living room. “You can call me Kushina-nee-chan.”

Minato gives Kakashi a look. “You should call her Kushina-nee-chan.”

“Okay, Kushina-nee-san,” Kakashi says. He will _not_ give in. “Minato-sensei, are you fighting on the same squad as my dad?”

“Yeah,” he says. “There’s already a fair amount of fighting going on even without the majority of Konoha’s forces out there. We’re going to be fighting a bunch of battles, and probably traveling too—that’s why we’re packing so much. Things get lost.” 

“Oh.”

“Oh! This is a lot of food! You gonna feed the entire squad? Who packed this?” Kushina asks, dragging her finger over the scrolls’ contents as she reads.

“I asked Kakashi to do that,” Sakumo responds. “He’s good at this kind of thing.”

“Aw, Kakashi-chan! What a sweetheart!”

Kakashi feels the sudden urge to hide. Maybe if he could just sink through the floor . . . Because Kushina is _loud_ and _energetic_ and it’s too much for him to handle. Why can’t she be calm like his dad? Why does she have to be—like—like _that?_

“Thanks, Kushina-nee-san,” he says quietly.

Kushina rounds on him. “Don’t be formal with me, you little brat!”

Sakumo snorts. “Nee-san isn't exactly formal, you know.”

“Too formal for me, y’know!” Kushina says. “But I’ll let this slide, jus’ for now. C’mon, Sakumo, we better leave. Kakashi-chan! We’ll be back! Or, well. I’ll be back in a few days to check up on you, ‘cause I won’t be on the mission for as long as they are. I gotta protect the village. So when I come back, you better be callin’ me Kushina-nee-chan, y’know?” 

“Okay, Kushina-nee-san,” Kakashi says. 

“Kakashi, stop _baiting_ her,” Sakumo says, “and help me pack up. We need to leave right now.”

Kakashi heaves a long suffering sigh.

Such is the life of a pack mule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who just got a girlfriend?
> 
>  
> 
> _both of us_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EARLY CHAPTER EARLY CHAPTER EARLY CHAPTER
> 
> Hello! Welcome to chapter six of _while you were holed away in your head,_ also known as: wywhaiyh — because writing the whole thing out is such a pain, and it's also kind of funny to hear me (falterth) trying to say "wuhyuhwuhhighyuhhuh?" out loud. Needless to say: bad idea, please don't do that. Only I can be stupid. Only me.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: mentions of blood and injury, but no explicit descriptions.
> 
> Obligatory "I love Sasuke" moment even though Sasuke's not in this fic. I also love Orochimaru, and have never had regrets in my life. He IS in this fic, so I can get away with saying that.
> 
> I really shouldn't be allowed to write notes. Do you see how long this one is getting? Do you? It was only supposed to be a couple of sentences, but then I thought about how excited I was for this chapter, and let's not forget that I thought of how much I loved Sasuke—anyway, yes, fic.
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy the newest chapter of wywhaiyh! Also comment/kudos if you enjoyed. God damn it, I said "without further ado." LOOK AT ALL THIS ADO. LOOK AT IT AND DESPAIR. have i also mentioned im tired

“We can't _kill_ him, he's a _council member_.”

Kakashi freezes as he reaches for a scroll on chakra theory. _Wait. I just realized I’m in public. I just said that out loud in public._

 _Yeah,_ Big Kakashi says. _You shouldn’t do that. Someone might hear you._

 _I_ **_know,_ ** _you old geezer._ Kakashi huffs. _Shut up. But really, we can’t just kill Danzō. He’s powerful! He was on a team with the Sandaime! I know I said I could take on a Kage before but—but—just_ **_no._ ** _And even if I could kill him, I’d have to cover up my tracks._

_You’re right, mini-me. Just teasing. Let’s take it easy for now._

“Kill _who_ , now?” Someone—probably a shinobi, judging from how quiet their footsteps are—steps out from behind the bookcase that Kakashi had been looking at. Upon closer inspection, he determines that he’s Nara Shikaku, one of Minato’s friends.

“Hi, Shikaku-san. What are you doing here?”

_You better think up an excuse, little Kakashi. You can say you were gauging how well you’d do in a fight against the stronger shinobi of Konoha._

Kakashi is about to open his mouth to say that it’s a dumb idea, that Shikaku would be able to tell that he’s lying, when he’s pulled out of his thoughts by Shikaku speaking again.

“Not going to ask how you know my name, seeing as I’ve never talked to you before. But Minato probably told you about me. And you’re the Hatake kid that he talks about all the time.” Shikaku gives him a flat look, and doesn’t answer Kakashi’s question. “Now. Who were you killing—or saying no to killing?”

 _Tell him what I said,_ Big Kakashi prompts.

 _No,_ Kakashi retorts. _It’s stupid._

“I was talking to . . . how should I put this? I was talking to the voice in my head,” Kakashi says. And it’s the absolute truth. 

 _You idiot,_ Big Kakashi says. _He’s—oh. He’s not going to believe you. God damnit, you little genius._

Nara Shikaku doesn’t buy it.

Big Kakashi laughs. _Of course. One of my genin teammates did this all the time. None of us believed him, but it was usually the truth._  

“Anyway, you’re a jōnin, right?” Kakashi asks. “Can you supervise me with this jutsu I’m working on?”

Shikaku points to the scroll in his hand. “That’s for chakra theory." 

“Not _this_ ,” Kakashi says, pulling the actual scroll out of his backpack. “This. B-rank jutsu. Minato-sensei gave it to me. It’s called the Charged Current jutsu.”

“Most shinobi don’t ask permission for this.” Shikaku squints at him. “Usually, they go out and try something and get themselves killed. Are you _sure_ you’re a child? Are you maybe—in disguise? I can’t remember the last time that anyone under the age of fifteen asked _anyone_ for supervision.”

“Well, I’m asking you,” Kakashi says. “You can turn down the opportunity if you want to. Your loss.” 

“Wait,” Shikaku says. Kakashi smiles. “I’ll watch you. Don’t get me wrong, though! I just wanna make sure you don’t fucking die or something. That would be troublesome. Think about all the paperwork. And also Minato might kill me if I say no to you.”

“Great,” Kakashi says brightly, and places the chakra theory scroll back onto the shelf.

 _Stick by this guy, kid,_ Big Kakashi says. _Nara Shikaku, future jōnin commander. Lazy sarcastic asshole, but a smart one. And strong to boot._

He makes his way over to training ground six—the only one near them with a pond in it—and checks every once in a while to see if Shikaku is following him. He _is,_ but Kakashi has to slow down his pace so much that it’s almost unbearable. He doesn’t know how it’s physically possible to walk that slowly, but—it is, apparently.

“ _Finally,_ ” Kakashi says, when they’ve gotten there. He unrolls the scroll and studies it over one more time to make sure that he has everything right. “Okay. Just make sure I’m not killing myself or anything. It would be cool if I could try this out on you, but I don’t want to electrocute you." 

When Kakashi looks back at the teenager, he’s laying in the grass, seeming to be seconds from dozing off.

Kakashi sighs. _He isn't even gonna watch, is he. Asshole._

Big Kakashi laughs. _He's got this. Don't worry about it._

Kakashi begins to train, going through his hand signs slowly without actually drawing up chakra for a good few minutes before he can do the signs without thinking too hard about it.

Then, he starts for real. 

 

“All the water’s gone. Why did you do that.”

“I didn't mean to!”

  

“What the _hell_ are you even doing with your chakra.”

Kakashi flaps his arms—his arms that are a little numb, if he’s being honest—around everywhere helplessly for a moment before saying, “I'm just doing what Minato-sensei told me to!”

 “Are you sure you didn't fuck the explanation up somewhere on the way?” Shikaku asks, eyebrow raised in the typical Nara fashion.

Kakashi’s jaw drops and he turns toward Shikaku with a disbelieving expression on his face. “No. You shouldn’t get to accuse me of fucking up the explanation. All you’ve done is sit there and criticize me without actually _teaching_ me! _Tell_ me about the explanation and maybe I’ll learn something.”

“Okay,” Shikaku says. “Hand me the scroll and shut up for a minute so I can read it."

Kakashi fumes, and hands him the scroll.

 _Did you know him?_ he asks Big Kakashi.

 _Yeah,_ Big Kakashi says.

_Was he always infuriating like this?_

_Yeah, pretty much._

_Ugh._

Shikaku spends about thirty seconds scanning the scroll. He hands it back to Kakashi with a look of extreme prejudice on his face. He points to a line on the scroll. “Look. It says to conduct lightning chakra through all extremities. From what I’ve seen, you’re only emitting from your arms. That’s a pretty powerful concentrated blast of lightning. Of course it’s going to backfire. You’re not meant to discharge that much chakra from one place in that way. And you have to remember to coat yourself with your own chakra, half-charged to lightning. Which you’ve been doing—but you look . . . a little fried. It’ll be easier if you even everything out.” 

Kakashi drags a hand down his face. “Oh. _Oh._ Thank you so much, Shikaku-sensei—”

“Sensei?” Shikaku asks.

“Well, you’re teaching me stuff. So, sensei,” Kakashi explains. “Is that bad?”

Shikaku sighs. “-san is fine. I won’t be sticking around.” 

“Okay,” Kakashi agrees. As long as he learns this damnable jutsu, he’s fine with anything.

  

Kakashi stares blankly at the empty cupboards. “Are you serious—we don't have any tea left.”

 _You didn't go shopping yet, so there isn't any food either,_ Big Kakashi says helpfully.

“Shut up,” Kakashi grumbles, reaching for the shopping scrolls, “tea’s more important than _food_.”

 _Of course_ **_you_ ** _think it is._

“I said shut up,” Kakashi says as he locks the front door of the house behind him.

_Alright. Just make sure you have a list._

Kakashi sighs. _I have a list. A mental list._  

Big Kakashi sighs.

 

 _Why the hell is this so expensive. Why does dad buy this. What is going through his mind when he buys this brand of coffee. Gross. And there are so many ingredients in this peanut butter—oh my god is that mold on the bread?_ Kakashi stares incredulously at the shelf. _There are so many things wrong with this store. I should go somewhere else._  

 _Please. This is disgusting,_ Big Kakashi complains.

Kakashi ignores the venomous look the civilian cashier sends him as he exits the store to find another.

The new store is a good store. It's a little strange looking on the outside, but it's a good store. He picks up a basket and makes his way into what he assumes is the produce section. He grabs a bag and fills it with cucumbers, because cucumbers are his _favorite_ and he will eat them until he _dies,_ and then he tears another bag off of the roll and puts a few onions into it. He picks out a few plums, too, because these are the good sweet-plums that he likes to eat after missions, and then after a few seconds he gets some starfruit.

He heads to the dried foods section and grabs miso soup mix, two five-pound bags of rice, and a generous amount of ten-packs of ration bars.

 _Generous?_ Big Kakashi asks. _Understatement of the year. Big, massive understatement. You’ve got more than twenty of these things. I’m surprised you even managed to fit this stuff into the basket._  

“It’s a big basket,” Kakashi says. “A really really big one.” 

That’s probably it for the time being. Now, Kakashi thinks, he can turn to the important tasks: sugar, tea, and snack foods.

Kakashi is looking for the tea when he turns a corner and slams right into someone. Kakashi catches his basket with only a small amount of flailing. The bag of onions lands on the ground. “ _Shit_.” 

The stranger snorts and picks up the onions, dropping them back into Kakashi’s basket. “They will be fine, so long as you wash them when you get home. They are not apples; they will not bruise.” 

Kakashi looks up, feeling Big Kakashi’s dread creep through him. There's a snake wrapped around the person’s neck. It’s a _cool_ snake, but— 

 _Orochimaru,_ Big Kakashi says, and it’s both a warning and a call for help. _He’s bad—bad news, not evil yet but he_ **_will_ ** _be, do not engage—_

 _Not evil yet?_ Kakashi asks. _Great._ And then he turns his attention to the most important part of the situation.

“That’s _so cool_ , what kind of snake is that?” Kakashi asks immediately, immediately and deliberately forgetting about Big Kakashi’s panic.

The person—Orochimaru, supposedly, whoever that is—raises an eyebrow, but answers anyway. “Ball python. His name is Jin. It would do you well to treat him with the respect he deserves.”

“That’s _awesome_. Jin is awesome. I love snakes, they’re so cool. They could _kill_ you. Did you know that a lot of shinobi die from snake bites, even more so than enemies? It’s ‘cause snakes don’t have big chakra signatures, and it’s hard to predict where they’ll be. And if you don’t have a medic, which not many teams do because they’re _stupid,_ it’s really hard to cure the bite,” Kakashi babbles.

The stranger hums. “I did know all of that, but thank you for informing me. I am fond of snakes as well. In fact, one might even consider me an expert on the topic of snakes.” 

“What’s your favorite kind?” Kakashi interrogates, ignoring Big Kakashi shouting at him to stop talking to the person. “I like big snakes. _All_ the big snakes.”

“I am particularly inclined toward venomous snakes,” they reply, folding their arms. Jin flicks his tongue out at Kakashi, and Kakashi smiles brightly, turning back to focus on Orochimaru. Their shopping basket is empty, save for three bottles of expensive-looking sake. “You are Sakumo’s son, I assume?”

Kakashi nods slowly, and responds, “Yeah . . . why?”

“He is my . . . acquaintance-friend. Of a sort,” Orochimaru replies. “He has spoken about you to me.”

“Acquaintance-friend? That’s such a weird word. What does that even _mean?_ ” Kakashi asks, squinting at Orochimaru slightly. Big Kakashi has shut up, and is silently fuming in some corner of Kakashi’s mind. 

“Sakumo said it first,” they say. “And I am unwilling to think of a word that better suits our relationship.” Jin butts his head into Orochimaru’s neck, softly. “Jin, I’ve told you to stop this behavior. I will send you back to Ryūchi Cave without any sake if you continue to _assault_ me in this fashion.”

Jin looks at Orochimaru reproachfully, but relaxes eventually.

Kakashi is silent, because _how are snakes this cute—_ a sentiment that seems to be, reluctantly, shared with Big Kakashi—and then he speaks again. “Anyway, what's your name? I'm Kakashi.”

“I am Orochimaru,” they answer shortly. 

“Cool! Um, Orochimaru,” Kakashi says, trying out the name (and it’s only half-fake because he knows the name but he’s never said it before), “do you know where the tea is? _Nothing_ here is _labeled_ right. Not even the aisle numbers.”

Big Kakashi has ended his silence and is now cursing Kakashi out.

 _You do not fucking ask a fucking S-rank shinobi with a_ **_snake—_ ** _however cool snakes may be—on his shoulders who could take your damn head off in the blink of an eye to show you where the_ **_tea_ ** _is—_

 _Not evil yet,_ Kakashi reminds him cheerfully.

“I believe I do,” Orochimaru replies, bringing Kakashi’s focus back onto them. “Labeling, unfortunately, is the price that one must pay if they wish to purchase high-quality groceries. Come along. I will accompany you for the rest of your trip.”

“Why do you need to—”

“Because I am interested in you,” Orochimaru says, and Big Kakashi just about screeches at that. “And because I’ve not met you before, and I can imagine that Sakumo would be pleased to know that I am spending time with his son." 

Kakashi nods, and when Orochimaru walks down the aisle, Kakashi runs forward, grabs a handful of their robe, and clings on tight. Orochimaru looks down at him before shrugging slightly and continuing on their way. The tea aisle is only two down from where they were, and Kakashi doesn’t hesitate to grab five boxes off the shelf. Orochimaru watches, amusement writ across their face, as Kakashi purposefully heads toward the end of the aisle where the sugar is on stored.

Kakashi sets down his basket so that he can reach for a bag, and is stopped by Orochimaru. “Your basket is going to break if you overload it like that,” they say, pointedly looking at the many bags of produce and rice and boxes of tea in the bag. “Your arms may be able to handle the load, but I doubt your basket will. My own is nearly empty; I will assist you.” Orochimaru gets to work, taking the heaviest things out of Kakashi’s basket and transferring them to their own.

“Thanks?” Kakashi asks hesitantly, and gently drops the bags of sugar into his basket. He picks his basket back up, takes a moment to remember where checkout is, and then he and Orochimaru head there together.

The man behind the till nods at the both of them, and Kakashi steps forward to put his groceries onto the counter.

“Ah,” Orochimaru says. “I will cover the cost. It is the least I could do for the child of my acquaintance-friend." 

Kakashi nods silently and watches Orochimaru put everything out onto the counter. When they’re done, they nod to Kakashi and the two of them walk out of the store. Kakashi turns in the direction of his house, but Orochimaru stops him once again.

“We need to visit the jōnin headquarters. I must deliver to Tsunade the sake I purchased for her,” Orochimaru explains.

 _And he says so many unnecessary words. Never trust a person who says too many words!_ Big Kakashi warns.

 _Would you stop that? They’re fine,_ Kakashi snaps. _Not. Evil. Yet. And they won't be, ‘cause I’ll fix everything!_

Kakashi nods at Orochimaru, and they set off in the direction of the HQ. Before the two even enter the building, Kakashi hears someone shout—and then the wall in front of them crumbles. 

Kakashi will deny to his dying day that he shrieked.

Orochimaru sighs. “Tsunade,” they sigh. “Why is it always Tsunade?” 

“ _Jiraiya!_ ” someone—presumably Tsunade, whom Kakashi has heard about but has never actually talked to—shouts. “ _One_ more comment about my ‘huge jugs’ and it’ll be _you_ who gets pulverized next!”

“Okay, okay, calm down, hime. _Ouch—_ that is _not_ calming down,” the person that Kakashi thinks must be Jiraiya says. “Nononono, stop, don’t punch—”

A man with a startling amount of hair flies through the empty space where the wall used to be. Kakashi winces sympathetically, and Orochimaru sighs again.

“Jiraiya,” they say, in a perfect copy of their previous tone, “Why is it always Jiraiya?”

“Are these your friends?” Kakashi asks.

“Unfortunately,” Orochimaru says dryly, “yes. They are.”

“D’you ever want to get better friends?” Kakashi asks.

“Maybe once, a long time ago,” Orochimaru intones, “but now? I would not trade them for the world.”

Kakashi shrugs. He wonders why Big Kakashi has quieted down so much, and then he thinks that he doesn’t really care, so long as the criticism against Orochimaru has stopped.

“Orochimaru!” Tsunade shouts, having spotted them among the ruins of what used to be the north wall of jōnin headquarters. “There you are! Do you have my sake?”

“I do,” Orochimaru says. “It seems that you are in dire need of it now.”

“Damn right I am,” Tsunade agrees. “Can’t get a day of rest around here without having to punch Jiraiya through a wall.”

“I think he enjoys it,” Orochimaru observes. “Otherwise he would not put himself into these situations so often.”

Jiraiya—from where he is lying flat on his back—groans. “I do _not_ enjoy it. I’m just not good at—mmph!”

Tsunade, in the time that it takes Jiraiya to say that, has marched over to him and planted her foot onto his chest. “If you say _not good at giving compliments,_ I will stomp. You’re just not good at hiding the fact that you’re the biggest pervert Fire Country’s ever seen.” 

“Ack— _sorry._ Let me up,” Jiraiya whines. “I’ll improve.”

“You _better,_ ” Tsunade warns. “Because I won’t have pity on you forever.”

Kakashi frowns. “So are they . . . always like this?”

Orochimaru nods, and picks their way across the ruins of the wall to hand the bottles of sake over to Tsunade. Kakashi thinks that Jin looks sad to see them go, and then he wonders if snakes can even drink alcohol. He’ll have to ask about it.

“You two should make yourselves scarce before Sarutobi-sensei hears of this,” Orochimaru says. They smile innocently. “After all, he will surely assign _you two_ to the task of fixing the wall if he sees you around.”

Tsunade grimaces, and steps back from Jiraiya so that she can help him up. “Come on, you big oaf,” she says. “Let’s get out of Konoha for a few hours. We can say that we decided to train, or something.”

Jiraiya grins lecherously. “ _Train,_ you say?”

Tsunade’s expression turns dangerous. “Don’t start that with me again. Now come _on,_ I bet someone’s already taken this to the tower.”

He nods seriously—it’s such a startling contrast from his earlier attitude—and together the two of them book it down the street. 

Kakashi turns to Orochimaru. “You’re not going too?”

Orochimaru gives Kakashi a smile. “I was grocery shopping. I am completely innocent of this. However, it is in our best interests to _not_ be here when Sarutobi-sensei shows up. Let me accompany you back to your house.”

Kakashi smiles. “Yeah! You can come have some tea. I hope you like sugar, because I always add a lot to mine and sometimes I forget that people _don’t_ like it. Like my dad. He likes his tea with honey. Which is gross, but I don't judge. And also, can snakes drink alcohol?" 

“I am not opposed to sweet tea,” Orochimaru says, and then, “Ordinary snakes cannot. Snake summons are capable of consuming every kind of food. Jin in particular is fond of sake.”

“Cool,” Kakashi says, and is about to say something else when Orochimaru gives a pointed glance at the rubble. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s go—um, you can probably stay for a while if you need to hide out.”

Orochimaru nods, and they go. 

 

Kakashi has just brought out the mugs of tea to the living room when Orochimaru turns to him with a curious look on their face. They pull their sleeve back and a seal lights up—they pull a pair of knitting needles and a ball of yarn out of it.

“Do you know how to knit, Kakashi?” they ask him.

“Not at all,” he replies.

“Then I will see to it that you do,” Orochimaru replies. “Come here. I’m sure that I have some extra needles around here somewhere . . . ”

The next two days are spent knitting with Orochimaru. 

(Well. Orochimaru knits. Kakashi tries and fails miserably to create any kind of proper stitch. And also, he doesn’t actually know how to _stop_ knitting because Orochimaru has either forgotten to teach him or has deliberately not taught him, so his scarf drags on and on and on and _on—_ )

  

 _I still don’t approve of you spending time with Orochimaru._  

Kakashi smiles. _They aren’t evil yet. Like I said, I’ll fix it._

 _But he_ **_could_ ** _be,_ Big Kakashi protests. At this point, though, Kakashi suspects that Big Kakashi is only complaining for the sake of complaining.

 _I will fix it,_ Kakashi repeats.

Big Kakashi heaves a long, deep sigh. _You better. And—why do you keep doing that? Calling Orochimaru ‘they’?_

 _They don’t seem to care—and if they do, they would have said so. So either I’m right, or they just don’t care._  

 _Okay. Okay,_ Big Kakashi says. _But this doesn’t mean that I trust him—them—any more!_

  

Kakashi has just finished washing his breakfast dishes when the kitchen window slams open. 

“You're going to _break the glass_ , stop,” Kakashi scolds the redheaded woman as she knocks a couple chopping boards onto the dirty, unswept floor. He had _just_ washed those.

Kushina grins unapologetically. “Whoops. Just coming in to check on ya! I was sent back for a day or two to make sure defenses are up to snuff, an’ I'll be headin’ back out when I’m called.” 

“You don’t have to check on me. There are several responsible adults in my life who _haven't_ been called out on missions.” 

“Mm? Like who? Name three adults who are still in Konoha that you know,” Kushina challenges.

Kakashi fails to come up with three off the top of his head, but he speaks anyway, because speaking without thinking has never failed him thus far. “Okay, there's, um, Shikaku-san. And there's Orochimaru.” Kushina raises her eyebrows. “And, um—Dai-san!" 

“Oh my god. Shikaku isn’t even an adult! He's _my age_ , y’know!”

“Excuse me? He’s _nineteen._ And legally, even _I’m_ an adult. I could have just said I know _myself._ ”

“That's not what I—”

“Are you bleeding?” Kakashi interrupts, and he doesn’t even really need to ask because Kushina’s shirt is _soaked_ in blood, and it stands out even more because she’s wearing one of the less-common white tops.

“What?” Kushina pauses to look down at herself. “Oh. Huh. Would ya look at that. That's a lot of blood, you know.” She pulls the dirty shirt away from the gash in her side and flinches immediately after she does. 

“Don't _do_ that, Kushina! Are you _stupid_? Get over here!” Kakashi orders. He shoves her into a chair and quickly grabs a first-aid scroll from the cabinet. He unseals anything possibly useful and tells Kushina to remove her shirt.

“You called me Kushina,” she says. “Nice. Keep that going! And patch me up, will you?”

Kakashi shakes his head, disinfecting the laceration and then getting out a needle and suture. As he begins to stitch the gash—and Big Kakashi is pointing out his awful stitching skills the entire time, and occasionally directing him to do or not do something—he accidentally stabs the needle deeper than necessary.

Kushina hisses and reflexively flares her chakra.

Kakashi pauses in his work to stare at the messy-looking seal that suddenly appears. “A seal? What's that for?”

“Ah, that . . . it gives me a power boost. Or, at least, it’s supposed to,” Kushina says through clenched teeth. Kakashi leans over to give her a towel to bite down on, and she accepts it gratefully.

Kakashi resumes his stitching, slower than before, and mindful to not hurt her. “Supposed to?” he asks. “It doesn't work?”

Kushina grimaces. “Nope. It's all wonky! If I try to use it, I lose control of my body! It _sucks,_ y’know.”

“So change the seal,” Kakashi says, because really, it seems so simple a thing to do—if it’s broken, fix it.

Kushina freezes, as though she hadn't considered such a thing. “Huh. Guess I _could_ talk to Minato about trying that. But ‘m not sure if it’s possible. We could probably add to it pretty easy, but removing parts . . . that’d take a lot of effort, y’know. Hmm, maybe I can figure all that out when the mission’s over." 

Kakashi hums agreeably, and puts the finishing touches on the suture.

“Yeah, I can do that. Hey, since when d’you know Shikaku and Orochimaru?”

Kakashi responds with as little detail as possible. “I met Shikaku-san a few days ago, and Orochimaru—well—they’re sort of . . . trying to teach me how to knit?”

Kushina laughs, and it’s sudden, like it’s been startled out of her. “Orochimaru’s teaching you how to _knit?_ Good luck to them. I can’t imagine that you’d be good at that.”

Kakashi scowls. “I finally learned how to stop knitting yesterday. So _there._ ”

Big Kakashi laughs in his head. _You know how weird that sounds, right?_

 _Shut up,_ Kakashi says. And, wow—telling him to shut up is _definitely_ a habit now.

“Fine, fine,” Kushina relents. “You better knit Minato a scarf or something, y’know! He _never_ dresses warmly enough and then he complains that he’s cold." 

Kakashi laughs. “Yeah, that sounds like sensei."

“Now,” Kushina says, “tell me about what you’ve been up to while I was gone!”

Kakashi sighs. “A _lot._ ”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EARLY UPDATE EARLY UPDATE EARLY UPDATE
> 
> Hello! Coming close to the last chapter _oh no_. It's okay though! There are more fics in the series, and ~~sadly~~ we will not be done writing any time soon!
> 
> No warnings for this chapter, please leave a kudos/comment if you enjoy!

Kushina stays for a few days—she gets a lot done even in that short amount of time. She gives Kakashi’s house a deep-clean, she cooks enough miso soup with extra tofu to feed Kakashi for a week, she spars with Kakashi once and _only once,_ and she weeds the extremely pitiful garden.

“You should give up gardening,” Kushina tells him. “You have the opposite of a green thumb. A red thumb, y’know!”

Kakashi pouts at her. “I’m just not good at gardening, okay?” 

 _That's an understatement if I’ve ever heard one,_ Big Kakashi says.

“Well, you should use your backyard for something else, then! Build a little training ground out here. You do have the space for it, y’know,” Kushina says. She gets up from where she’s kneeling in the dirt to take the glass of water that Kakashi offers to her. After she drains the glass, she falls into a fighting stance and fakes throwing a few punches at Kakashi. “Wanna spar?” 

 _Yes. One-hundred percent yes,_ Big Kakashi goads.

“ _N_ _o,_ ” Kakashi breathes, slightly terrified. “Absolutely no sparring. I don’t want to have to go to the _hospital_ again for _four broken fingers_ because you can’t pull your punches.”

 _It was kind of your fault for not dodging,_ Big Kakashi says.

“Pulling punches is for the weak, y’know!” Kushina crows. But she does relent. “Okay. You do have a point. But next time you agree to spar with me, I’ll go easy on you, so you don’t get too hurt. Just promise you will, okay? I don’t want to scare you away forever!”

“Maybe when I’m strong enough to hold my own,” Kakashi agrees. “But my hand still kind of hurts, so not any time soon.”

“Sorry,” Kushina says sheepishly, and then her usual energetic demeanor returns. “Okay, I’m sick of cleaning up your garden. Let’s go eat!” 

 _You should get ramen!_ Big Kakashi insists. _Ramen!_  

“What do you want?” Kakashi asks. _Shut up, geezer, not ramen, definitely not—_

“Ramen! Why do you even think you need to ask? Ramen’s the best food, y’know!” Kushina pulls him into the house and washes her hands and face. She throws the damp towel at Kakashi after she’s done drying her hands. “Put that in the laundry for me, will you? And if you say yes to ramen, I’ll pay!” 

Kakashi throws the towel in the laundry basket and picks up his quickly thinning wallet. Kushina may have cooked for him, but she had advised him to save the miso for when she has to leave again. So in the meantime, they’ve eaten out for the past three days—and the amount of food that Kushina eats is honestly scary.

 _Maybe so, but she’s got nothing on an Akimichi who’s just started their training,_ Big Kakashi comments.

“Let’s go on D-ranks later!” Kushina exclaims. “After we get lunch. So I can pay you back for all the money I’ve mooched off of you.”

“Uh—”

“Let’s go!” Kushina leads him out of the house and down to Ichiraku Ramen. “So I know I’ve taken you here like four times already but _their food is so good and_ —hi, Mikoto! Haven’t seen you in a while, y’know!”

The woman—Mikoto, and probably an Uchiha, judging by her coloring—smiles. “I was looking for you. You’ve been back from your mission for a few days, haven’t you?”

“You betcha! This is Kakashi. He’s Minato’s kid. I mean, apprentice.”

“You’ve told me about him,” Mikoto says, and laughs. She turns to Kakashi and extends a hand. “Uchiha Mikoto. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hatake Kakashi,” Kakashi says, and absently wonders how Kushina could have ever made friends with such a calm person.

Kushina doesn’t hesitate to duck down into the stand and sit on one of the bar stools in front of the stand. “Teuchi-san!” she calls. “Three bowls of miso ramen, please! And another one for the kid.” 

“Coming right up,” Teuchi says. “You’ve been coming around more recently. I’m starting to think that if you stopped eating here I’d go out of business.”

Big Kakashi laughs at that. _This place’ll_ **_never_ ** _go out of business. Trust me._

“You don’t needa worry ‘bout that, y’know,” Kushina reassures him. “I’ll _never_ stop eating at this place. You have the _best_ ramen, Teuchi-san. The _best._ It’s _so good._ ”

She turns away from singing Teuchi’s praises to talk to Mikoto. 

Kakashi sits awkwardly on his stool until the ramen arrives, and then he pulls his mask down and buries his face in his food so that he can escape talking to the two of them.

“—and he stitched me right back together,” Kakashi hears Kushina say. “I mean, he’s kind of bad at it, but it got the job done, y’know!” 

 _Only kind of bad?_ Big Kakashi asks skeptically. 

“Did you, now?” Mikoto asks, and turns to him. “Good job. Kushina has . . . a bad habit of avoiding hospitals. It’s nice to know that someone is looking after her.” 

“It’s ‘cause Tsunade always makes sure that she can treat me, and Tsunade has absolutely _no_ bedside manner. They only let her become a doctor ‘cause she’s so good at it, y’know,” Kushina says, pausing in her vigorous eating. Her mouth is full, and Kakashi frowns at her because _ew._ “But anyway yeah, I’m going to do some D-ranks with Kakashi later to help him pay for all the food I’ve eaten.” 

“I really don’t want—” 

“I’ll do a few and Kakashi can do a few! I’ll give him all my pay ‘cause I’m, like, _rich,_ I shouldn’t even be making him pay for me but all my money is in my house, y’know, and it’s good for Kakashi to have more training!” 

“I don’t think D-ranks qualify as training for me, Kushina,” Kakashi says.

 _D-ranks are the best training for any age,_ Big Kakashi says, and Kakashi wonders about the sanity of the man. 

Mikoto looks endlessly amused. Kakashi decides that he kind of maybe hates her. Possibly. Probably not. He’s not sure if _anyone_ could hate Mikoto. She’s just so—so _nice._ And quiet. Quiet people are good. 

“Hmm. I guess not. You’re pretty skilled, y’know,” Kushina informs him, finishing off her second bowl of ramen. She calls Teuchi over to order a few more bowls, and Kakashi groans. 

It’s going to be a very long day. 

 

Kushina leaves the next morning because she needs to get back to her mission. “I’ve actually overstayed my leave,” she says. “But I’ll be back in a week or so! So don’t do anything like burn down the house, okay? And eat healthy! I didn’t cook all that miso for nothing, y’know!” 

 _Please burn down the house just so we can prove her wrong,_ Big Kakashi suggests. 

 _What the fuck? No!_ Kakashi says back.

Kakashi nods, helping her pack up the last of her supplies, and he walks with her to the village gate. They meet Orochimaru along the way, and Kushina warns them to “take care of the kid while I’m gone, okay, or there’s gonna be _hell_ to pay when I get back!” 

Needless to say, Orochimaru agrees. Kakashi waves until Kushina is out of sight, having blended in with the huge redwood forest that surrounds Konoha. Orochimaru then holds out their hand for Kakashi to take, and then the two of them make their way to Orochimaru’s house so that they can gather their things.

“Come along, then,” they say to Kakashi. “I’ll not take any missions until Kushina returns. Now, I believe you were inquiring about a scarf for your teacher . . . ?” 

 

“Hey,” Kakashi says, shifting so that Jin won’t be jostled by the arm movement that comes with knitting. Kakashi had been pestering Orochimaru for a few hours about summoning more snakes, and they had finally given in. Right now, Kaori—a _huge_ reticulated python, Jin, Ikuyo—a gopher snake, and Chikara—a yellow anaconda, are sharing the sofa with him. “You know what would really freak my dad and Minato-sensei out?”

_Oh, no. What are you—_

“Do tell,” Orochimaru replies. They brush Hideto, a small black snake with an orange ring on his neck and a bright orange underbelly—and that’s _irritating_ because Kakashi can’t recognize him from any of his snake books—out of the way when he tries to wriggle his way into the blanket that Orochimaru is knitting.

“You should call me your son,” Kakashi suggests.

 _They should_ **_not_ ** _call you their son,_ Big Kakashi advises. _I don’t think I’d survive that kind of trauma._

 _Even better!_ Kakashi says. _Maybe you’ll finally stop telling me not to interact with them!_

 _I’m—I haven’t even complained about them in a while—you—you little_ **_brat,_ ** Big Kakashi accuses. 

 _‘m just glad to have you off my back for now,_ Kakashi says.

And it’s true—maybe because so much has changed recently, or maybe because Big Kakashi is just _tired_ of stressing out over the future and has decided to take it easy— _This is almost worse than being Hokage,_ he’d said just yesterday—

“Perhaps,” Orochimaru says thoughtfully. They glance at Kakashi’s failed attempt at a scarf and grimace. “That is _not_ a scarf. If you endeavor to improve yourself enough to make something for your teacher, you would do well to put even more effort into your work.”

“Sure, _mom,_ ” Kakashi says, rolling his eyes.

“I take great offense to that,” Orochimaru says. They’re smiling, though, so Kakashi thinks it should be fine. Jin raises his head and flicks his tongue out, licking Kakashi’s cheek.

“Okay, fine. Sure, _parental figure,_ ” Kakashi says. He rolls his eyes again and starts over on his knitting project.

Big Kakashi sighs.

He reaches for his tea, pulling his mask down at the same time. When he brings the mug toward his mouth, he smacks his tooth on the mug’s rim, and— _ouch._ That _hurts._ Kaori gives him a _look,_ and then she’s slithering down onto the floor to wrap herself around his legs. Jin and the other two seem to be content with laughing at him—their laughs are closer to quick, quiet hisses, and it sounds _really, really cool._

In any case—

“Be careful next time,” Kaori warns him in that low, rasping voice of hers, and Kakashi nods.

He’s about to just shake it off and go back to drinking the tea, because even if it’s never happened before, he’s sure that it isn’t anything _serious—_ and then he pauses, because Big Kakashi seems to have only just noticed this most recent development, and has apparently decided that _gasping horrifically_ is the correct course of action to take.

 _What?_ Kakashi asks, suddenly feeling panicky. _What is it? Is everything okay?_

Big Kakashi says mournfully, _Oh, no . . . Kakashi, your tooth . . ._

Kakashi stares blankly at his mug. He feels hollow, but he’s not sure if that’s Big Kakashi’s shock transferring over to him or if it’s his own—and that’s concerning, because he’s actually gotten pretty good at differentiating their emotions lately. _What about my tooth? What's wrong?_  

 _Your—your tooth, you’ll need_ **_tooth surgery_ ** _. . ._  

Kakashi’s hand flies up to his mouth instinctively. He frowns. He doesn't _think_ tooth surgery is a thing, but—he’ll have to check. He turns to Orochimaru. They’re looking at him strangely.

“Kakashi? Are you feeling unwell?”

“Orochimaru, I hit my tooth on my mug. Do I—do I need _tooth surgery_?”

They continue staring for a good moment, as though debating on what exactly they should respond with, and then, seeming to make up their mind, they say, “Yes, I’m afraid so, Kakashi. I can schedule a doctor’s appointment later today. Around four o'clock in the evening, perhaps. My friend, Tsunade—you’ve met her—is a medic at the hospital when she isn't on missions. She’s really quite talented; however, I’m afraid that anaesthesia will not be an option for such a minor surgery.” Orochimaru looks at him, and their expression is almost sad. “I’m sorry that it had to be like this.”

_Told you._

“Oh, _no,_ " Kakashi gasps, horrified. He ignores the curious look that Kaori is giving him, because—he’ll have to—to go under surgery _without_ anaesthesia? He’ll have to—he doesn’t even want to _think_ about it.

Suddenly, he’s very glad that it’s still early in the day.

 

After a half hour of knitting—really, though, it’s attempted knitting on Kakashi’s part and expert knitting on Orochimaru’s—and the occasional small talk, Kakashi hears the front door open. He glances up to see his father rubbing his face tiredly at the sight of Kakashi, Minato beside him staring at the same scene in confusion.

‘Snakes,’ he sees Minato mouth. ‘Snakes. Everywhere.’ Minato sighs and trudges off to the lone armchair in the corner of the room, plopping himself down into it. 

Kushina walks right in without hesitation and sit down right next to Kakashi on the couch.

He absently wonders where his fear of her went. Maybe it disappeared when he literally had to stitch her side together. Who knows?

“What’s up, kiddo? And you’re supposed to be knitting, right? Not—not whatever _that_ is. Nice color, though,” Kushina comments.

_She’s right. What the hell are you doing?_

“Shut—I—it’s—don’t _insult_ me and hide it behind a compliment!” Kakashi complains.

Sakumo finally decides to speak, and he sounds _so_ defeated when he does. Kakashi almost feels sorry for him. “ _Orochimaru_ —my good acquaintance-friend—I was going to give Kakashi the _dog summons contract_ , come _on—_ and also, _why_ are you in my house?”

Kakashi startles, because _what_? Sakumo was going to give him the _dog summons contract_ ? What does _that_ have to do with anything? 

Orochimaru smiles innocently at Sakumo—an art that they seem to have perfected—and declares, “I’m knitting with my son.” 

Kakashi silently cheers.

“ _Son?_ ” Minato asks incredulously, finally deciding to grace the room with his _wonderful_ voice.

“Yes. Orochimaru is my parental figure,” Kakashi says seriously. 

Minato and Sakumo look vaguely terrified.

Kushina just snorts. “That’s cool. You missed a stitch.” 

Kakashi sighs, quickly backtracking to correct his mistake, and then he suddenly remembers. “ _Dad_ , I just remembered, I hit my tooth on my mug! I need _tooth surgery_!”

Minato straightens up from where he’s slouching in the chair in the corner of the room. “ _Tooth_ surgery?” 

“Yeah!” Kakashi says, pulling his lip back so that everyone can have a proper view of his tooth.

“Oh, _no,_ Kakashi, your poor tooth! We should take you to the hospital _right_ now!” Sakumo exclaims loudly, seeming to have moved on from the apparent atrocity that is “Orochimaru equals parental figure.”

“Do not worry,” Orochimaru reassures. They’ve paused in their knitting for now, and Hideto has successfully wormed his little way into the magnificent blanket. “I will contact Tsunade at a later point in the day. For now, I thought that allowing Kakashi to relax would be the best option.”

“I agree,” Sakumo says, nodding sagely. “Apologies for having doubted your infinite wisdom.”

Kushina groans and throws a pillow at Sakumo. “Hush, you! Kakashi, you _don't_ need tooth surgery, you're fine. They're all just _assholes_.”

Kakashi breathes a sigh of relief, and is about to round on Orochimaru and his dad for _lying_ to him, what the _fuck,_ when he hears the familiar squabbling of two voices outside the house. 

The door slams open, and Tsunade and Jiraiya enter, in all their dramatic glory.

 _Oh_ **_god_** _, not them—_

“Orochimaru! There you are! We were—” Jiraiya suddenly stops, staring at Orochimaru in horror. “What the _fuck_ are you doing?” 

“I’m knitting,” Orochimaru explains, “with my son.”

Tsunade and Jiraiya exchange horrified looks.

“ _Son?_ ” Tsunade asks carefully.

"Who _are_ you?" Jiraiya asks, horrified. "You are _not_ the Orochimaru I know."

"Maybe I am," Orochimaru says. They continue their knitting calmly. The blanket is coming along nicely—but then again, Kakashi isn’t the most knowledgeable about knitting, so it could be an absolute disaster, but he doesn’t think that’s the case. "Maybe you just don't know this side of me. Maybe only my acquaintance-friend Sakumo and our son know this side of me." 

“ _Our_ son?” Sakumo says, and then, “Okay. Whatever. Our son. Okay.”

Kakashi ignores the constant sighing of Big Kakashi. 

"No," Jiraiya says. He points an accusing finger at Orochimaru, ignoring Tsunade’s attempts to wrestle him back to normalcy. “You—”

Tsunade is finally able to clamp her hand over Jiraiya’s mouth. “If you don’t shut _up,_ I swear to the gods, I will actually kill you.”

Jiraiya laughs nervously.

Orochimaru resolutely ignores him, turning to Tsunade instead. “Ah, speaking of whom . . . I was just going to come find you, Tsunade, to talk to you about a tooth surgery for Kakashi.”

Kakashi frowns and starts gently petting Kaori’s head. She gives him another pointed look, but this time he can’t figure out why. “Kushina said I don't _need_ tooth surgery! You guys are a bunch of _liars!_ I only hit my tooth, and it didn't break or crack or _anything!_ And it doesn't even _hurt_. I don’t even know why I believed you in the first place." 

Tsunade raises an eyebrow, walking over to sit at Kakashi’s right side (because Kushina is at his left). “Is that so? Let me see.” Kakashi—who hasn't had his mask on since before the mug incident—opens his mouth obligingly.

A few moments pass before Tsunade gasps. 

“What?” Kakashi pulls himself away. “What is it?”

Tsunade glances to Orochimaru. “Definitely in need of tooth surgery.”

Kushina leans over to flick Tsunade on the forehead. “Stop teasing him! He's fine.” 

Tsunade shakes her head. “Trust me, Kakashi. I’m a doctor. Have I ever lied to you before? I’m set to become head of hospital in a few years. I’m trustworthy. Kushina, have you ever studied human anatomy?”

“No,” Kushina says. She looks indignant. “But I don’t _need_ to study it to see that he’s fine!” 

Kakashi is torn. Inwardly, he asks Big Kakashi for his advice.

 _Tell me the truth,_ Kakashi orders. _Do I need tooth surgery?_

Big Kakashi sighs. _It’s like I told you,_ he says. _Your tooth might be beyond repair even as we speak._

Kakashi gulps. His tooth doesn’t even _hurt_ anymore, but Tsunade said so. She’s almost the _head of hospital._ “Are you _sure?_ ” he asks Tsunade. 

She nods, but her facial expression is all weird and pinched like she’s trying not to laugh. “Yeah—”

“ _No,_ ” Kushina repeats. “No tooth surgery. You guys are gonna traumatize him, for the gods’ sakes, he’ll never wanna drink tea again at this rate, y’know!”

“What a blessing that would be,” Sakumo says. “Do you know how much we spend on tea? Kakashi only goes for the expensive stuff.”

“ _Hey!_ ” Kakashi protests. “I only use my _own_ mission money for tea, stop acting like I’m going to—to spend your whole entire savings, or something!” Then, because he can’t trust any of the adults in the room because they’re all _lying liars who lie,_ he turns to the snakes scattered all over the furniture. “Do _you_ guys think I need tooth surgery?” 

“Not at all,” Kaori hisses. Hideto pokes his tiny head out of the blanket and shakes it. Jin is silent and unmoving, and Kakashi suspects that the snake has fallen asleep. Chikara flicks his tail lazily, and Ikuyo is—nowhere to be seen. 

Kakashi hopes that she isn’t out in the kitchen.

“Okay,” Kakashi says. “No tooth surgery.” Then he turns on Tsunade and all the other adults in the room. “You—you _liars._ ”

“No tooth surgery,” Tsunade confesses. “I’m just messing with you. Now—come on, Orochimaru, Sarutobi-sensei wants us to report to his office for an out-of-the-village mission in Ame. And Kakashi—” she says, fixing him with a steady look, “—you’d better help your father unpack. The mission went well, but I’ll bet he’s tired as fuck.”

“Language,” Sakumo scolds, glaring at Tsunade. Wow. His dad is so cool, he’s giving the Sannin dirty looks and he isn’t even being pulverized. “But yes, I’m tired. Minato, Kushina, you two probably have some unpacking to do too. Kushina, please make sure that he actually unpacks instead of going to sleep right away.”

“I can look after him myself without you telling me what to do, y’know!” Kushina says. She stands up and crosses the room, pulling Minato up and out of the chair. “See ya!”

Kakashi waves at the two of them. “Bye! Minato-sensei, as soon as I’m done knitting this I’m giving it to you, okay?”

“Okay,” Minato says. And Kakashi really does feel bad for him, because there are huge bags under his eyes and he looks _exhausted._

Shortly after they’ve gone, Tsunade, Jiraiya, and Orochimaru take their leave. 

“I’ll leave these here,” Orochimaru says, gesturing toward the snakes and their knitting project, which they have stuffed into a large bag and left on the floor next to the couch. They turn to Sakumo. “If that’s acceptable, of course. I should be back within a week to assist your son with his knitting project; I predict that this’ll be a minor battle.” 

“ _Dog contract,_ Orochimaru,” Sakumo says with a pained expression on his face. “ _Dog contract._ But it’s fine. Kakashi can have some fun with them. I know he’s really into snakes.”

“I’ve gathered as much,” Orochimaru replies. Tsunade and Jiraiya have already left the house. “Goodbye, acquaintance-friend.”

As soon as the door shuts, Sakumo turns to Kakashi. His expression has shifted from _pained_ to _accusing._ “You,” he says, pointing to Kakashi. “Why is it always the extremely powerful ones you make friends with? Can a dad ever catch a break around here? I think _not._ ” 

Kakashi gives Sakumo a sheepish smile. “They’re all good role models . . . ?” he tries.

“Mmmhm,” Sakumo says unbelievingly, and then he gestures toward the bags on the floor. “Help me unpack while I start my mission report?” he asks.

“Sure thing,” Kakashi says, and untangles himself from Kaori and Chikara—who has draped himself all across Kakashi like a blanket—so that he can kneel down next to the bags, which are considerably lighter than they were when his father left.

“I’ll be in my bedroom slash office, then,” Sakumo says over his shoulder. 

“Cool,” Kakashi says, and swats Hideto away from the beef jerky. “See you later.”

  

Not even an hour after leaving, Orochimaru re-enters Kakashi’s living room.

They look stressed, Kakashi notes. 

“Kakashi, would you help me collect my snakes and knitting supplies for a moment? It seems the mission is to be much more of a bother than I anticipated.”

Kakashi blinks at them, confused, before agreeing. “Sure.”

A few minutes later, everything and everyone is packed away.

Except for Chikara. 

(Kakashi had refused to let Orochimaru go without leaving at least one snake behind for Kakashi.

“Come on,” he’d whined. “Just Chikara and Kaori. _Please?"_  

“I’m afraid I can’t leave you with Kaori,” Orochimaru had said. “She is one of my most accomplished summons, and she could be the difference between winning and losing. Chikara, however . . . is clumsy on his best days. He will stay here. The only thing I must ask of you is to not let him have any sake _whatsoever_.”) 

“Goodbye,” Orochimaru says for the second time that day. “And I hope that I should not have to delay the mission further. Amegakure is not a pleasant battleground.”

“Bye,” Kakashi says. “Good luck with your mission.” 

The sound of the door clicking shut has Kakashi feeling sadder than he’d like.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here’s the working author’s note:
> 
> here have the LAST FUCKING CHAPTER bitches ❤️❤️❤️ fucking love you all
> 
> Teddy do the note bc reasons
> 
> Here’s the real author’s note:
> 
> Welcome to the last chapter of wywhaiyh! After this, there’ll be a oneshot and then another longfic. We don’t know when they’ll be published.
> 
> Please leave a comment/kudos if you like it!

“Have you been slacking off in your training while I've been gone, Kakashi? You're like a newly-graduated genin! It must be all the sugar! I mean, I know I haven’t had that much time to train you lately, but to fall _this_ far behind? You’ve been lazy,” Minato taunts Kakashi as they spar. 

Big Kakashi is very helpfully laughing at Kakashi’s misfortune.

Kakashi is almost nailed in the head by a high kick from Minato, and he has to dodge at the last second. He can’t even counter it—he’s completely on the defensive by now.

“I've totally been training! Just—I just haven’t had the time to do the . . . the bigger things! I have a busy life!” Kakashi tries.

_‘Totally’ is a lying word, mini-me. Keep that in mind for the future._

Kakashi swears at Big Kakashi.

“Oh, you’ve _totally_ been training, huh? Because Kushina told me you didn't train at all while she was here! Said you just watched her garden, and sparred with her _once._ And got four fingers broken. We’ll need to train overtime until you're back in shape!” Minato says.

“ _Overtime?_ ” Kakashi complains.

 _Minato sure is an absolute demon while training, isn’t he?_ Big Kakashi asks.

“Overtime!” Minato cheers. “And you’ll be on a strict diet with next to no sugar and as much protein as I can shove into that tiny little body of yours until you're back to your previous level or higher! Preferably higher.”

“You can’t take away my sugar! That's just cruel! That's like depriving Kushina of ramen!” Kakashi complains.

Minato freezes for just a second—almost imperceptibly, and Kakashi doesn’t even _realize_ that he’s stopped moving until _seconds_ after it happens. The spar continues, and Minato uses a jutsu to blow a huge blast of air at Kakashi. Kakashi uses the only earth jutsu he knows to quickly bury himself underneath a foot or two of dirt, and pops back up behind Minato. His teacher is too quick to catch, though, and he quickly spins around to face Kakashi.

“Alright, _fine._  Sugar is limited but not completely removed. And I _mean_ limited, Kakashi.”

 _You know, if you'd been training, you could've taken advantage of that moment when he froze,_ Big Kakashi points out.

 _Shut up!_ Kakashi whines. _I’ll get better, and then I’ll really show him who’s boss!_

_Sure you will._

Kakashi _hates_ Big Kakashi. _Hates._

 

For the entire three weeks that Orochimaru is gone—not including when Minato is beating the shit out of him and only slightly pretending that it’s training—Kakashi sulks around the house. He does train by himself, and he _does_ take Kushina’s advice to convert the garden into a sort of mini-training ground, which Sakumo helps him with and which takes about half a month to finish.

They set up three dummies in the yard and store ten extras in their shed; Kakashi and Sakumo work together to erect a few wooden poles scattered all around the place; and they build a shallow pond for Kakashi’s chakra control exercises, so that he doesn’t have to walk to the river or to the lake just outside of Konoha to practice. Kushina helps them to fill it with water.

Chikara is good company, but just as Orochimaru had said, he’s _clumsy._ Kakashi has to keep him in his room, and not the living room, because _huge twenty-foot snake summons_ and _knocking things over_ is a disastrous combination at best, and a downright _calamity_ at worst.

Big Kakashi complains the whole time about _snakes_ and _snakes_ and _please don’t pet him again, I think I’m going to cry, he’s so cute—_

And he has to buy real, physical locks for the sake cabinet, because Chikara had gotten into them once, and that situation had been one that Kakashi is _not_ willing to repeat. Chikara is a _menace_ while drunk.

(Read: hanging from ceilings and licking the face of whoever dares to pass underneath him; curling up in the doorways; terrorizing Sakumo; prying open the door to Sakumo’s bedroom slash office and initiating a hostile takeover of his bed; eating a bottle of shampoo and vomiting all over the bathroom—although Kakashi suspects that Chikara vomited just to be difficult, and not because he was _actually_ sick; and eating all of the sugar in the house, forcing Kakashi to go out and buy more.)

Luckily, Chikara doesn’t seem to want to put in the effort required to break the lock, so he spends most of the rest of the three weeks out on the back porch basking in sunlight, and watching Kakashi struggle to set up the thick wooden training poles.

Sakumo, conversely, spends most of his time inside of his bedroom slash office. Kakashi suspects that his dad is either a) hiding from Chikara, b) writing up that mission report, or c) catching up on the sleep that he’d missed.

Kakashi wonders if it’s all three at once.

 

Orochimaru and Tsunade arrive back in Konoha, looking world-weary but uninjured. Probably the result of Tsunade’s expertise in healing, but Kakashi wonders if they are just _that_ good.

In any case—Kakashi breaks into a run as soon as he sees Orochimaru, and then he flings his arms around their waist. “Orochimaru!” he says. “Chikara got _drunk!_ ”

 _That’s seriously the first thing you say to them?_ Big Kakashi asks.

“Please, spare me the details,” Orochimaru sighs. They look a little confused, like they don’t know what to do about Kakashi’s sudden hugging of them, but they eventually rest a hand on the top of Kakashi’s head. “But—were there any major damages to the house? I will reimburse you in full if that is the case.”

“No, he didn’t destroy anything. But he did vomit shampoo all over the bathroom after he ate a whole bottle of it. Are snakes allergic to shampoo?” he asks curiously.

“Most beings,” Orochimaru says, “will have adverse reactions to consuming shampoo. However, the answer, in this case, is no. I’m sure that Chikara was just being difficult.”

“Oh, okay. He’s really good to sleep next to, though. He’s _super_ big.”

“I am aware of this,” Orochimaru responds. “I have known him since he was newly-hatched. How have you been while I was away? I hope you’ve been keeping up with your training.”

“Only some D-ranks, and a _lot_ of training with Minato-sensei,” Kakashi says enthusiastically. “My dad kept complaining about how he’d wanted to train me with the dog summons, but I was as good as set for the snake one. Is that _true?_ ”

Orochimaru hums, as though they hadn’t considered this. Knowing them, though, they probably _have._ “Perhaps. Would you _like_ the snake contract?”

“That would be _so cool._ If I could get—” Kakashi pauses, and then rattles off the names of all the snakes he knows. “Ikuyo and Chikara and Hideto and Morie and Kaori and Jin and Genko and Hitomi and Han and Kenji and Kikue and—”

“I think I understand your point,” Orochimaru says. “You will have to ask your father for permission, of course, and the contract will have to wait until you achieve jōnin rank. As of now, your chakra levels and control are . . . _extremely_ lacking. The snake summons require a higher level of precision than most, and if you summon them often the drain on your chakra will be dangerous at your age.”

“Okay,” Kakashi says excitedly. “I’m gonna go ask him right now. Do you and Tsunade wanna come over?”

Orochimaru exhales slowly. “Unfortunately, Tsunade and I must report back to Sarutobi-sensei. The mission was—not very successful. Almost everyone we were sent with is dead.” They lower their voice so that anyone passing by won’t be able to hear them speaking. “And Tsunade in particular has had a rough time of it.”

“We’re also the Sannin now,” Tsunade adds, glancing at Orochimaru with a weird expression on her face. “Which is—well, it’s not the worst name we could have, but the _circumstances_ weren’t exactly—good. So we need to go handle our important business now. And drink. Go ask your dad about that snake contract, or something.”

_Ask her if she’s okay. I think I know what happened._

“Are you okay?” Kakashi asks her.

Tsunade stills and turns to him. “Truthfully . . . no. I lost a very good friend during that battle, and I couldn’t heal him in time.” She laughs, rubbing at her face with her hands. “Orochimaru had to practically drag me back to Konoha, and they helped me remember some things. Important things, like: I’ve still got people here. That I can prevent things like this from happening again. I _will_ see to it that med-nin have a place on every team.”

Orochimaru smiles, and they look almost—proud of Tsunade. “Yes. Well, in any case, Kakashi, you had better go home now.”

Kakashi nods, detaching himself from Orochimaru, and gives them one last look before rushing off toward his house.

 _A snake contract. How cool is_ **_that_** _,_ Kakashi says to Big Kakashi.

 _I had the dog contract,_ Big Kakashi says. _This isn’t fair._

 _What isn’t fair?_ Kakashi asks.

Big Kakashi is silent for a moment—pouting, probably—before he says reluctantly, _I wish I had the snake contract. Snakes are cool. But good gods, I love—loved—my dogs. You know what? No. Nevermind. Dogs rule!_

Kakashi laughs happily. _They are! They’re the best!_

 _Maybe not the_ **_best,_ ** Big Kakashi says. _But they’re pretty close._

_Whatever you say, Big Kakashi. Whatever you say._

 

“You know what?” Sakumo says to him when he asks about the snake contract. “Sure. I can’t even see you without it now. They like you so much, I’m not sure if the dogs would accept you by this point. But I really did want you to have that contract . . . ”

“We could get a pet dog instead!” Kakashi suggests. “We can have dogs _and_ snakes. And we should get a cat.”

Chikara perks up when Kakashi says “cat.”

“No cats,” Sakumo says. “I am allergic to cats. And judging from Chikara’s reaction . . . I wouldn’t trust him around one.”

“ _Allergy medicine,”_  Kakashi says. “You can use that, and then we could have a ton of animals. Don’t worry about taking care of them. I’m a capable shinobi. I can take care of a pet or two.”

“We’ll see about that,” Sakumo says. “Dog? Yes. I can visit the Inuzuka compound later. They know me. But we’d have to wait a while to see about a cat. Having multiple pets is much different than being a shinobi. 

Kakashi pouts. It’s probably not _that_ different. But he’ll take it.

 

“Jiraiya is in Amegakure training some orphans,” Orochimaru explains later that day when Kakashi remembers that _oh, Jiraiya’s missing,_ and asks them about it.

Orochimaru has finished giving their verbal report to the Sandaime—all important missions require verbal reports—and has come over, with Tsunade in tow, to Kakashi’s house, and is seated at the dining table working on the written report. Kakashi is opposite to them, drinking tea out of his favorite mug. It’s a black mug with the characters for "wineglass" written on it. Kakashi appreciates the humor.

Chikara and Jin are both down under the table. Well—Jin is curled up around Kakashi’s feet; Chikara is trying, and failing, to get up onto the table because Tsunade has brought a few bottles of sake over.

Tsunade looks like she wants to give Chikara some of it. Orochimaru looks like they are dangerously close to having a conniption fit. 

In any case—

“He’s . . . training another country’s orphans,” Kakashi says slowly, not believing a word of it.

 _Actually, it did happen,_ Big Kakashi says.

“Yes. Konan, Yahiko, and Nagato, I believe their names were,” Orochimaru says, pen scribbling across the paper almost faster than Kakashi’s eyes can trace it. Tsunade is filling out papers almost as quickly. They probably both have atrocious handwriting, Kakashi thinks.

 _Tsunade’s got the worst case of doctor handwriting that I’ve ever seen. From what I’ve heard, Orochimaru does too,_ Big Kakashi informs him.

“Huh. Is that legal? In wartime, especially?”

Tsunade shrugs, and takes a long drink from her sake bottle. She looks tired, but not defeated, and Big Kakashi says that it’s better than how it was when _he_ was in Kakashi’s place. “Probably not.”

Orochimaru scans the paper they have just finished writing on, and sets it aside in one of the piles of paper on the table. “Most definitely not. But Jiraiya said that he sensed potential in those three. If he brings them home, and they have proper training—who is to say that they will not be accepted?”

“Hmm . . . I guess so,” Kakashi says.

“You might even find yourself making friends with them,” Tsunade suggests. “They’ll probably be relieved to see someone their age.”

“Tsunade,” Orochimaru interrupts, “they are all at least two years older than Kakashi.”

“But we could still be friends!” Kakashi says. “I can show them around. Tell Jiraiya to let _me_ and not some random person.”

“I will see what I can do,” they reply. “But they will be detained in Torture and Interrogation for a while after they arrive. Not too long, though; as I’ve heard it, their parents were civilians. I cannot see that they would provide any sort of valuable information.”

“Okay,” Kakashi says. It seems _weird_ that some people around his age would need to go into the _torture and interrogation_ department, but, well. It is how it is, he guesses. “I still wanna be friends with them, though.”

 

Two months pass in the blink of an eye.

Kakashi’s ninth birthday comes and goes, for one. Sakumo seems to want to make a big deal out of it, as do Minato and Kushina, and Orochimaru and Tsunade. They give him a stupid, pointy, green birthday hat that he takes off as soon as he can, and they get him a cake, which he doesn’t eat because he just doesn’t really like cake.

In the end, Chikara devours the thing whole, much to the chagrin of Tsunade, who is actually looking forward to eating it. She vows never to give him sake again, and then breaks that vow the very same night. And Chikara _does_ get drunk, because that is what he always does, but Orochimaru sends him back to Ryūchi Cave quickly, and summons Kaori instead, who is very happy to see Kakashi.

All in all, it is a good night.

He trains more with Minato, too, improving and improving and _improving_ his taijutsu until Kakashi is better than he was when his teacher left on the mission.

Kakashi takes endless D-ranks, and a fair amount of C-ranks, too. He does one B-rank with his dad, a mission to travel to Sunagakure and see how the new treaty is working out, and surprisingly, absolutely nothing goes wrong—except that everything does, because for some reason everyone in the village hates Sakumo, and they encounter a band of low-rank missing-nin that had previously been thought dead. 

Minato drills him relentlessly after that, stating that the war is worsening, that he’s sad to see Kakashi have to grow into his role as a shinobi so early but that it’s _necessary,_ that he can’t stand by and let Kakashi be under-trained.

Orochimaru starts coming to Kakashi’s training. First to observe, and then to occasionally give tips on stances or chakra control or— _anything,_ really. They are a veritable well of knowledge, and Kakashi isn’t dumb enough to turn that kind of valuable advice down.

And then, about a month and a half into this rigorous and exhausting training regimen, Kushina barges into his kitchen—through the window, of course, because anything less would be too boring for her—and announces that she’s inviting him along to the Uchiha compound because Mikoto’s friend’s son has just turned two years old, and that he has absolutely no choice in the matter.

So Kakashi agrees to go and see the toddler slash baby.

And as soon as he sees the little Shisui, babbling and giggling and drool running out of the corners of his mouth, he feels a little bit of his heart melt.

“He’s in his terrible twos,” he hears Shisui’s mother—Manami, Kakashi thinks—say to Mikoto. “Kept me up all last night whining for treats. Dango, taiyaki, the like. He’s got a _monstrous_ sweet tooth. He hasn’t said his first word yet—but I swear to every god in heaven and hell, if it isn’t _sweets,_ my name isn’t Uchiha Manami.”

Definitely Manami, then.

“Can I hold him?” Kakashi says suddenly. Shisui turns his head over to Kakashi quickly and grins, toddling over to him and making grabbing motions at his legs. Kakashi looks to Manami for permission—she nods—and he gently picks Shisui up, shifting him so that he rests on Kakashi’s hip.

“Looks like he’s taken a natural shine to you, Kakashi-kun,” Manami says.

Shisui drools all over Kakashi’s sleeve. Kakashi stands there for a moment or two, feeling a weird combination of affection and disgust, and then Manami rushes over to give Shisui his pacifier. Shisui purses his lips and turns his head away. Kakashi thinks that everything is fine for a few moments until the kid _bites him on the fucking shoulder, what the fuck—_

Big Kakashi laughs obnoxiously at him. Kakashi himself simply holds Shisui away from his body to glare at him.

Manami drops her head into her hands and sighs. “This again . . . I’m sorry, his teeth are coming in. I can go get his teething toys, wait here a moment and—” she cuts herself off as she runs to the other side of the kitchen and opens the freezer. She shuffles things around a moment before returning to stuff a cold, oddly shaped . . . _something_ , into her son’s mouth. 

 _It kind of looks like someone tried to make a two dimensional peanut and failed horribly,_ Kakashi thinks.

 _That’s a_ **_teething toy,_ ** Big Kakashi says exasperatedly. _But I wouldn’t expect you to know that._

_Hey! I totally knew that. I was just . . . commenting on its looks._

_Sure you were,_ Big Kakashi says.

“There we go!” Manami exclaims. “All better now, huh, Shisui?”

Shisui grins up at her, the toy falling out onto the ground. Kakashi has to try his best to hold back a laugh, and fails very, very miserably.

She sighs again.

 

“Jiraiya’s back in Konoha. He just stepped through the gates,” Orochimaru says off-handedly, while the two of them are knitting in Kakashi’s living room. Chikara has taken up his usual space beside Kakashi, and is trying his absolute best to impede Kakashi’s efforts to knit Minato a scarf.

It’s not as much of a disaster as it would have been two months ago, so even if it has some dropped stitches here or there and the scarf is too thin or too thick in random places, he’s come too far with it to give up now. Orochimaru is still working on their blanket. They haven’t had time to knit lately, what with frequent mission assignments and doing—doing _something_ with Minato and the Sandaime all the time, so they’re making up for it now, on one of their rare days off.

“How do you know?” Kakashi asks. On the one hand, he’s tempted to believe that Orochimaru’s perception is just _that_ good, but on the other hand, he really doesn’t think that _anyone_ can be that good.

 _You’d be surprised,_ Big Kakashi mutters.

“Seals,” Orochimaru says shortly and without elaboration, and packs away their knitting to stand up. “Would you accompany me to fetch Tsunade from the hospital and to greet Jiraiya? No doubt that people will hound him once they’ve seen the children with him.”

Kakashi nods, sticks both his knitting needles into his ball of yarn, and gives Chikara a stern look and a warning to not get into any trouble while Kakashi is gone. Chikara gives him the stink eye and flicks his tail, but says nothing—and more importantly, he _promises_ nothing. But Orochimaru is standing in the doorway and is waiting for Kakashi, so he gives the huge snake one last look and then joins Orochimaru, making sure to shut and lock the door behind him.

“Is Tsunade busy today?” Kakashi asks, once they’re well on their way to her workplace.

“No,” Orochimaru answers, “not particularly. Just paperwork and more training to take over as head of hospital. Oh—and drinking, no doubt.”

“Isn’t that _really_ bad for you?” Kakashi asks.

“Isn’t sugar unhealthy?” Orochimaru questions in return.

 _I feel dirty, agreeing with_ **_Orochimaru_** _, of all people._ Big Kakashi pouts—Kakashi isn’t actually sure, but he’s _probably_ pouting, so—whatever. _But he’s actually kind of right._

They continue, “Yes, it is, but Tsunade has a remarkable metabolism, and she heals herself should she become too drunk to function properly. Don’t you worry about her. Instead, worry about the more important things, such as whether you will be able to improve your chakra control to a sufficient degree that I see fit to give you the snake contract.”

Kakashi gives them a sheepish glance. “I’ll work on my chakra exercises more. But you’ve seen me training. Minato-sensei works me _so hard,_ ” Kakashi complains.

 _Stop your complaining, little Kakashi, you’ll survive,_ Big Kakashi says teasingly.

“That he does,” Orochimaru agrees. “But exercises may be as simple as meditating before bed. Not all of them must be so complex and time-consuming.”

Kakashi frowns at that, because meditating brings up an entirely different crop of problems, such as having to see Big Kakashi face-to-face.

 _You could avoid that,_ Big Kakashi informs him. _You’re expecting to see me every time you meditate, which is my fault, okay, but you’re only seeing me because of that. If you can shake off the expectation, you’re good to go. But that might take a few weeks of practice._

 _Yes, and they’ll notice if I slack off on exercises for a week. So that’s not really an option,_ Kakashi says. _For now, at least._  

“It’s okay. I think I can make some time for the better exercises. I think Minato-sensei finally feels bad about training me so hard,” Kakashi says. “So he’s been kind of letting up lately.”

Letting up, as in, taking more missions so that he’s busy and _not_ explicitly saying that he’ll be training Kakashi less.

But Orochimaru doesn’t— _can’t_ —know that.

 _I wouldn’t be so sure,_ Big Kakashi warns. _Orochimaru has a way of finding things out that they really shouldn’t know._

“There she is,” Orochimaru murmurs. “Of course she would be the one waiting for us. Tsunade makes no one wait for her. 

Kakashi turns his attention outward, and indeed, Tsunade is standing in front of the hospital doors, hands on her hips.

“Orochimaru! Hey! Jiraiya’s back, is that why you’re here?” Tsunade says, once they’ve gotten close to her. “Hope he’s whipped those little brats into shape. Or else I’ll have to do it myself. And I’m honestly not sure that they’d be too happy about that. But the kunoichi showed promise. I might just have to take her on anyway.”

Orochimaru shakes their head in amusement. “Yes, that’s why we’re here. Kakashi seemed eager to meet the children, so I asked him to accompany me.”

The three of them exchange some more small talk, and then they head quickly toward the village gates. 

Jiraiya is there, signing some documents and waving various shinobi away from him. Three children—all of whom look older than Kakashi—huddle behind him.

“Look,” Jiraiya says, loudly, to one of the gate chūnin. “They’re nervous. Konoha is much bigger and livelier than Ame. Can you _please_ back off and give them some space? And if I hear you say that again—” 

The chūnin frowns, points to the three kids, and interrupts Jiraiya, saying something too quietly for Kakashi to hear. Orochimaru and Tsunade seem to pick up perfectly on what the man says, though, because Orochimaru frowns and Tsunade’s expression darkens.

Orochimaru crosses the distance between themself and Jiraiya quickly, and Kakashi, not knowing what else to do, follows suit, as does Tsunade, although she looks considerably more in-the-know about the whole situation. 

“Image?” Orochimaru asks, once they draw near to the gate-guards. “I was not aware that bringing in war orphans could damage my good friend’s image in any way.”

“Look at them,” the chūnin says. “They’re dirty, they seem like they probably haven’t been eating right, and they’re probably undertrained. What’s that gonna look like for Jiraiya-sama? To be followed around by a bunch of scraggly kids? I shouldn’t let them in. It would be for your own good. All of you. Maybe you can’t see it now, but these kids are trouble.”

“Dirty children can be bathed,” Orochimaru says calmly, and Kakashi knows how to look underneath the underneath, so he knows that the _calmly_ is actually _scathingly._

 _They’re gonna rip this guy a new one,_ Big Kakashi says amusedly .

 _I hope so,_ Kakashi responds. 

“And,” they continue icily, “Jiraiya is doing this not for how it looks, but because he cares about the futures of three children who have had their pasts ripped away from them. He does this because he sees potential in each and every one of them. Let me reiterate: he does _not_ do this because it could make him look good, or because it could do exactly the opposite. Narrow-minded fools such as you are would not be able to read the situation properly; perhaps I should spare you any charges of insubordination on account of your apparent idiocy. Do charges of insubordination sound extreme to you? I assure you that they are not. After all, what you have done is no small matter. You have insulted and disrespected three of Jiraiya’s charges, and attempted to deny them entry into Konoha, and then you went on to patronize three of the most powerful ninja in the village. I must say that it would be most unfortunate if this incident were to be mentioned to the Hokage. Temporary removal from active duty sounds appropriate, wouldn’t you think?” 

 _Holy shit,_ Big Kakashi whispers, almost reverently. _I haven’t seen a verbal curb stomp like that since someone tried to kick my student out of a weapons store._  

The chūnin takes a deep breath, and Kakashi turns back to watch him try to defend himself. But the man doesn’t—he simple pales and apologizes. “I apologize, Orochimaru-sama. I will not disrespect you or Jiraiya-sama in this way again. All that I ask is that you would not report my misbehavior.”

“Good. I will consider your request,” they say, and turn around, robes fanning out behind them dramatically. They rejoin Kakashi where he is standing about fifteen feet away from the whole situation. Tsunade is smirking, and the expression sits comfortably and victoriously upon her face.

 _There’s that flair for the dramatic,_ Big Kakashi observes. _I’ve seen it on almost every Konoha shinobi I’ve known._

 _Am_ **_I_ ** _gonna be that dramatic?_ Kakashi asks.

 _Yes,_ Big Kakashi says, completely without hesitation.

Kakashi rolls his eyes, and then focuses his attention onto the three kids that are hiding—hiding? Yes, definitely hiding—behind Jiraiya. One of them is a kunoichi with dark hair and bright-amber eyes. She looks cleaner than the other two, who are a boy with straight, vibrant red hair, and a boy with a spiky shock of orange hair. 

“Hi,” Kakashi says, coming closer to them.

The girl swallows visibly, but steps forward and sticks her hand out. “I’m Konan."

“Konan,” the boy with orange hair—who is a great deal shorter than the other two—hisses, “you can’t just _do_ that. You don’t even know who he _is—_ ”

“He’s with Jiraiya-sensei’s friends,” Konan says, and then turns back to Kakashi. “Sorry about him. That’s Yahiko, and the other one is Nagato. They’ll come around.”

“You like snakes?” Kakashi asks.

 _You are awful at socializing,_ Big Kakashi says. _Horrible. Bad. Egregious. No wonder I had no friends back then. Snakes? Are you_ **_serious?_ **

_Snakes are cool, and they’re a good topic for conversation,_ Kakashi says defensively. _I could talk about them all day. So back off._  

 _And that’s the_ ** _problem,_** Big Kakashi says. **_You_** _could talk about snakes all day long._ ** _They_** _probably can’t._

“Never mind,” Kakashi says. “Um." 

“I like snakes,” Nagato says.

“That’s cool,” Jiraiya says, butting into the conversation, “but toads? Far better.” 

Kakashi sticks his tongue out at the man. “Blech.”

“What about slugs?” Tsunade says, smiling.

Kakashi fakes turning around and barfing. “ _Eugh._ Gross.” He pauses consideringly, and then adds, “But your slugs are cool.” 

Tsunade laughs and ruffles Kakashi’s hair. “Okay. We better go and let Jiraiya get settled in. And, Jiraiya, they can stay with us until you find them an apartment. Gods know our house is big enough.” 

Orochimaru nods. “I have no problem with that arrangement.”

“Great,” Jiraiya says. “That’s one less problem to deal with immediately. Actually—Nagato, Konan, Yahiko, why don’t you go with them? You can go get cleaned up and then go shopping to get materials, clothes, and whatever else you need. The guest rooms are . . . kind of empty. You might want to order some furniture? I didn’t really think this through.”

Orochimaru smiles. “Very well. Tsunade, I advise that you take the rest of the day off to come with us. I suspect that Konan would benefit more from your advice. And you should rest more.”

“Maybe I should,” Tsunade says. “I’ve already cleared my schedule for the day.”

Kakashi tugs on her sleeve excitedly. “Yeah! It’s been _forever_ since we hung out.”

Tsunade ruffles his hair again—a habit which Kakashi pretends to be bothered by but ultimately doesn’t mind—and nods. “Okay. Orochimaru, round up the Ame brats. We’ve got a shopping trip to go on.”

  

“Absolutely not,” Konan insists. Nagato and Yahiko have similar mulish expressions on their faces.

“Why would you _share_ the smallest room when you could share the biggest? Or better yet, just sleep in separate rooms?” Tsunade asks incredulously. The group is standing in front of a furniture store, pretending not to argue. 

Kakashi knows they’re arguing. Tsunade and Orochimaru certainly know they’re arguing. But none of them will admit it, and Yahiko, Nagato, and Konan refuse to back down.

Yahiko huffs, crossing his arms and turning away.

Konan frowns, reaching out to rest a hand on Yahiko’s shoulder. Nagato doesn’t do much, but he does move to stand a little closer to the other two. “And I suppose if you were in a _foreign country_ for the _first_ _time_ with only the two people you’re most comfortable around for any real sort of company, you’d sleep in _separate rooms_? During a war, as well. Safety in numbers, Tsunade-san.”

Tsunade is speechless, trying to come up with a reasonable response. 

Orochimaru nods, looking both satisfied and intrigued at the same time. “I suppose I see your point. Your reasoning is strong. Very well, then. Three twin-sized beds or one queen?”

Konan blinks, startled, and Yahiko drops his arms and stares at Orochimaru.

Nagato answers for them, quietly, “One bed. King-sized, actually. If—if that’s okay.”

Orochimaru nods again, pleased.

Kakashi feels like laughing at the situation, but instead he opens the door to the store for everyone to enter. “We should probably buy the mattress and bed frame and seal them in a scroll before we look for anything else,” he suggests.

Big Kakashi agrees. _Good thinking._

“Sounds good,” Tsunade says. “Let’s get to shopping." 

 _Hey, actually, I was thinking,_ Big Kakashi says to Kakashi, as everyone enters the store.

 _What?_ Kakashi asks. He has his attention mostly on Big Kakashi, but does keep an eye on the rest of the group so that he won’t fall behind. Nagato and Yahiko are crowded around a dark oak bed frame and Konan, although she looks as excited as the two of them, is showing a little self-restraint and is standing back at a respectable distance.

 _Those three, they’re a team, you know?_ Big Kakashi says at last. Kakashi frowns in confusion. Of _course_ he knows they're a team. It's obvious. Big Kakashi continues speaking, _Maybe—maybe we should start looking for ours. Obito and Rin._

 _A team?_ Kakashi asks. _That—that sounds nice. Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that._

**Author's Note:**

> note: this was written with [falterth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/falterth), but as they left the collab they didn’t wish to keep their name on as author


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